One Week Trip
by SeraphHT
Summary: "I'm going to send you to the base of Task Force 141 with three conditions. One of them is that the members are not allowed to flirt or 'romance' you for the whole time you're there." The men reluctantly abide by the rule. But what happens when you learn that they find romantic relief not in you, but in each other? (SLASH! Told through the reader's [your] narrative.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_I had so much fun writing this xD I was plotting the sequel of __**News Worthy**__ when this idea just suddenly popped up in my head. Thought it would be fun to try. And this is my first time trying out a story in present tense._

**_WARNING:_**_Slash. Yeah, that means boy/boy, okay?_

_You should know… although there are hints of the reader (that's you, darling!) x (insert name of character here), this is really a slash about Soap/Roach/Ghost, with __**you **__to bear witness. I'll add in Archer/Toad as well, lol, I've fallen in love with them together. Will contemplate other couples if requested._

_Don't know how long it'll be. Maybe five chapters again, maybe shorter. Hell, I dunno. Depends on the feedback._

* * *

><p>"You <em>what<em>?"

You stare at Seraph, jaw dropping and eyes widening, as she smiles cheekily and throws you a wink.

"I set you up with the one-four-one!" Seraph repeats, the excitement obvious in the giggle following her sentence. "It wasn't easy, so be grateful. Do you know how hard it was to get the general guy to agree _not_ sending his task force out for _any missions at all _for a period of seven days? Hell, it was harder to get him permit an everyday girl into the base during that time. And that lucky girl is you!"

"You're joking," you say, laughing nervously.

"I'm dead serious," Seraph snaps. Then, her look of irritation transitions into a small smile. "Pack up. Your week with the Task Force 141 begins tomorrow."

She turns around to leave, but you grab her arm and stutter, "Wait, do the members know?"

"I think they do…I told the them they should expect a visitor," Seraph shrugs, and then flashes you a grin. "Once you're back, we're having a sleepover and you're going to tell me _everything _that happened in that base. I'm excited to know."

You remain silent for a few moments, and then Seraph giggles and begins to walk away. You watch, still a bit dumbfounded by disbelief, as the distance between you and your best friend increases.

Then, just to be sure, you called out, "So…this is really happening?"

Seraph glances over her shoulder. "Yes, you're going to spend the next seven days in a military haven full of _hawt_ guy soldiers. Happy belated birthday!"

No reply comes out of your mouth and the surprise paralyzes you until Seraph finally recedes into the distance. Finally, you manage to get a hold of yourself, and release a long sigh. After wiping your face several times, you turn around and enter your home to get a bag and pack some clothes.

* * *

><p>You're almost sure Seraph's playing some kind of prank, but that still doesn't stop you from packing up everything you would bring on a one week trip. As you check the items off the small list stored in your smartphone, your eyes glance at the time. It is about one in the afternoon, and you have no idea who is picking you up or how you're supposed to get to the base.<p>

Just as you finished going through your list, Seraph's contact number appears on your phone. You answer the call and put the device to your ear.

"_I'm dropping by to pick you up,_" she informs without saying any words of greeting. Then, with a smug chuckle, she asks, "_Have everything you need for the trip? Don't forget your toothbrush…and the condoms."_

A blush burns your cheeks. "Why the hell would I need to bring condoms?"

"_**Puh-lease**__ honey, you know why_," Seraph giggles again. You could almost feel her smirk through the line.

Before you can stammer a reply to save yourself from embarrassment, a soft _honk _sounded from outside your home. Pulling the curtains back, you find Seraph's car waiting and she ends the call when she sees you through the window, waving a hand. You sigh, shove the phone into your pocket and grab your bag before walking outside and locking the door behind you.

Throwing your luggage into the trunk, you move to the passenger seat and strap on the seatbelt. Seraph is giving you one of her cheeky grins that always annoy you, especially since she knows you're still a bit embarrassed from her earlier remark. However, she says nothing when you enter and steps on the pedal after the door closes.

"Seraph…I had a whole night to think about this trip," you start, glancing at your best friend from the corner of your eyes. She hums inquiringly, urging you to continue, though her gaze remains glued to the road. You continue, "Are you sure this isn't some joke? I mean—Task Force 141 from Modern Warfare 2 doesn't actually exist."

Both of you stop at a red traffic light and she looks at you as though you have two heads. "Girl, what the _hell _are you talking about? Modern Warfare 2? I've never heard of it."

"The game," you raise an eyebrow, frowning. "Don't act like you don't know, Seraph. All of those characters, the missions and stuff? You know I'm crazy for it."

Seraph doesn't reply for a few minutes. You think she's too focused on her driving, but then you realize she's mulling over what you said. Then, she replies with an answer that just makes everything more confusing. "I don't know what's wrong with you—but you've been bugging me about Task Force 141 ever since you heard about them online, after they did a mission that got them on the news. You mentioned everything; how the men look too good to be true, how they're so pro at what they do, all that shit…but there was never a game."

She looks genuinely confused. You, on the other hand, are genuinely perplexed. _'Am I in some sort of dream?' _you think, bewildered. Silence settles between you two as you decide not to argue the matter over.

Half an hour later, you find Seraph pulling up in front of the gate leading to a base.

"Here we are, the home of the one-four-one," she announces, grinning. Then, she looks you straight in the eyes and proceeds to explain, "Now then, while you were busy hallucinating about some kind of game that never existed, I did a few last-minute calls last night."

You nod slowly, unsure where the conversation is heading. An evil smile spreads across Seraph's face. "I set a few conditions, just for the sake of torturing you in your supposedly heavenly trip. First, you're under the guise of a girl interested in military lifestyle and training, so there is to be no word that your visit is for fun. Second is the best part for me; the soldiers aren't, in any way, allowed to flirt or get in bed with you. I created that just to know your and their reactions. Third is for safety…you don't have to tell them your name."

"Then, what will they call me?" you ask, frowning slightly.

"For the week, they're calling you Private, though you're not even a part of the military…" Seraph's sentence trails off and ends with a smug chuckle. "Alright, that's all. You can go get your bag out."

You exit the car and go to the trunk, pulling your bag out from the compartment. As you approach the gate, nervously taking in the aspects of the base, such as how everything screamed _guys' territory, _Seraph rolls down the window. She's talking to somebody on the phone, but doesn't take long, for she ends the call and waves a hand.

"Good luck," she smiles, and then explodes out in laughter. Perhaps it was the excitement getting to her, you don't know, but you glare at her anyway. She rolls up the window, still giggling, before driving away.

You stand still for a few minutes, watching suspiciously as her vehicle disappears down the road. You're almost sure a group of people are going to spawn out of nowhere and bombard you with water balloons, but nothing happens. The tenseness still fills up inside you, and just as you're about to turn around to face the gate, footsteps crunching against the gravel become audible to your hearing.

"You the girl who's visiting for the week?"

Instantly, you find out who it was that Seraph was talking to on the phone. Your heart skips a beat when the thick Scottish accent hits your ears. Glancing over your shoulder, you hardly believe your eyes when you see Soap standing behind the gate, an inquiring look on his face.

_Holy shit. _There's no doubt that's Soap. No mistaking that hair and accent.

"Erm—I guess I am," you reply nervously, averting eye contact and looking down at your feet.

"Alright, come on in."

The gate opens just wide enough for you to enter. You step pass it, fully aware that you're entering the Task Force 141 territory. Just the thought of it made you feel rather dizzy.

"I'm the captain of the task force," Soap begins. He doesn't know you already know.

At that moment, you gather the courage to look up. You flash him a small smile and sputtered, "Y-Yes, I know. Captain MacTavish…"

He arches a brow, surprised and rather suspicious, and you immediately realize what slipped pass your mouth. You look down and stammer, "S-Seraph told me."

"Seraph…so that's the name of the young lass, eh? The one who somehow persuaded Shepherd to give us a very well-earned one-week vacation." Soap's lips threaten to crack a smile.

"Yeah, Seraph somehow always gets her way," you smirk at the thought of her. "Talk about divine intervention when she managed to coerce the goddamn general…her name means 'angel', anyway."

Soap finally gives in, and a small smile plays on his face. "Seraph set up a few conditions. One of 'em is we aren't getting to call you by your actual name, so you'll be Private for the week."

You nod slowly as a sign of confirmation.

The captain turns around and begins walking towards the building in the center of the fenced compound. "Alright, Private, follow me. I'll show you your room and give you a quick tour of the base."

* * *

><p>You close the door behind you with a heavy, tired sigh escaping your lips. Turning the lock, you look around the bedroom provided—the small, square chamber with bland white walls and grey carpet without any conjoining rooms, along with the classical furniture one usually finds in a bedroom.<p>

"My men train every morning for a few hours, and sometimes some of them go for target practise around the evenings," you recall what Soap told you during the tour of the base. "If you'd like to watch for some first-hand experience, go ahead. If nobody's around, then just ask somebody and he'll be happy to demonstrate."

A smile subconsciously falls upon your lips as you remember how the members turned to look at you as you walked with Soap. And how you recognized some of them…Meat, Scarecrow, Royce…and one more guy who you didn't really recognize, but then realized it was Roach.

So that was how Roach looked like. Exactly like how fans thought of him.

You remember that Soap grunted when he learned everybody stopped their respective activities to stare after you.

"I should warn you, Private," he said, "that my men aren't completely sane or mature. That, and they haven't seen a girl around here for a _long _time, so be careful."

"I'll look for you if there's trouble…" you murmured in reply. "Besides, I don't think they'll defy the strict conditions of the one person who blessed them with some time off."

"That's true," Soap replied with a smirk.

'_No flirting, no funny stuff,' _you think to yourself, snapping out of your recollection of earlier events, as the subject of Seraph's three conditions pop up in your mind. For some reason, you let out a small laugh and collapse on the bed.

"Seraph, why must you do that to me?" you ask the ceiling, smile still plastered on your face. "To torture me…of course…_so_ like a best friend."

Your eyes wander to the door, and for a few minutes, you contemplate on what to do. It was half past two and you have yet to eat lunch. Then again, despite being hungry, there's no denying you're rather bashful of heading out to a cafeteria full of men…probably just sitting in the corner, awkwardly trying to eat as everybody stares and whispers.

You bite your bottom lip as you sit up and throw your feet to the floor. You decide to change out of your current clothes into something that'll look reasonably okay on you. Then, just as you unlock and open the door, somebody walks by your room and stops as the door swings inward with a loud _creak._

"Oh, who do we have here?" A friendly voice asks, the tone low and relatively alluring to your ears, but you've never heard it before in-game.

Your eyes meet with a pair of green ones, belonging to a handsome man with auburn hair and obviously American. You rack your brain trying to recognize who the hell you were staring at.

"I'm Christian, but call me Toad," he extends an arm, and you stare at it for a few seconds.

Oh. _Oh. _So this is Toad.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, hesitantly accepting his hand. _Holy FUCK, _you never expected him to look and sound like this.

"Where were you heading?" he asks.

"I—uh—cafeteria," you stammer, laughing slightly. "Haven't had lunch yet."

"I was about to go there, too," he smiles, and you avert your eyes to look anywhere but his face, in fear of squealing out like the little fangirl you are. "Mind if I accompany you?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," you nod, lips tugging upwards. '_This isn't flirting…it's better to go in and have somebody to talk to...'_

You walk alongside him, mantaining a comfortable silence for the two minute walk down the hall leading to the canteen. As you walk past the open arch, it's half-packed with people already, yells and laughter mixing with conversations into an incoherent noise that one so normally hears in a cafeteria.

And _then, _the noise dies down and you could feel your heart pounding against your chest. They're staring again. _Shit._

A blush tints your cheeks pink, and you know this because you can feel it. Toad looks down and notices your bashful expression, before laughing.

"Don't be shy, _Private,_" he smirks. "They're always like this when they see a girl…be it a high-ranked officer of the military, or just a normal girl like you."

You follow after Toad as he takes the food, but you don't wait for him as he makes his way for a table, since you think he's about to head off with the others. You find a vacant table and set your tray down—and, to your surprise, Toad joins you.

You look at him, confused. "Aren't you going to go with Archer?"

Toad pauses. "How do you know Archer?"

You mentally slap yourself for letting another vital piece of information slip past your mouth. If you keep this up, you're bound to be suspected of being a spy. "Seraph told me," you answer, hoping he would buy it.

"Seraph? The girl who gave the force the week off?" Toad cocked an eyebrow and you nod. Then, he looks back down at his food, dismissing the subject and returning to the earlier topic. "Hmm…what's wrong with sitting down with you? Don't want you to be all awkward and lonely."

At that moment, Meat clamps a hand on Toad's shoulder and flashes you a grin. "Hey, Toad, what's this? Made friends with the girl and didn't bother to introduce her to me?"

"This is Meat," Toad says, briefly allowing a lopsided smirk on his face before biting into his sandwich.

"Hello, _Private,_" Meat winks at you. "You don't seem like you mind having us here, so—" he turns around towards the cafeteria. "Hey, guys, who wants to sit with the girl over here?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the crowd surrounding you starts to increase. So many familiar faces and names huddle at your table, each member giving each other brotherly grins and exchanging witty remarks, those who had no space to sit stood by the side of the table.

You haven't even taken a bite of your sandwich. How could you? _Especially_ when out of all people to sit next to you, it just had to be Roach.

Finally, you brave yourself to tuck into the meal. You can hardly taste anything! Not with the guys surrounding you!

Remaining silent, you listen to their conversation about movies and games. They don't disturb you, probably because they know you're eating, but the flattered feeling wouldn't leave your chest. Despite the fact you're not involved in their talk, they're still _there _anyway, for one reason—and that reason is you. That just makes you feel all jittery inside.

Halfway through your sandwich, another voice shouts over the laughs of the men crowding you. "Hey, what the bloody hell is happening here? Move back, you muppets! Give our visitor some air!"

'Give our visitor some air'? As the crowd backs away just enough to reveal the owner of the voice, you suddenly forget how to breathe.

Oh _fuck. _It was none other than the lieutenant himself.

Simon "Ghost" Riley.

'_Holy __**SHET—**__asdfghjkl,' _your thoughts scramble in your head, and you nearly choke on your sandwich at the sight of him. _'Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm…'_

"She looks a bit stiffer now that we've backed off," Ozone pointed out with a small smile, arching an eyebrow at his superior.

In your head, you curse at yourself for looking so paralyzed, and immediately lean forward to take a bit of food into your mouth. As you chew, Ghost countered, "She looks fine to me. Don't suffocate her. Give her space."

Then, he added in with a hint of importance. "Remember the second condition, lads. No funny stuff."

"Well, that rule sucks!" Meat whined. A small uproar came from the crowd, supporting him. "We never get any girls around here and when we _finally _have one, we couldn't even flirt or anything! Not like she'll be okay to do anything serious!"

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you look down, hoping the blush isn't visible. Oh, you'd be _more_ than willing to do anything 'serious', it just depends on who it is…you'd do Ghost, for instance.

'_What the __**fuck**__ am I thinking?' _you felt like digging your nails into your face.

A chuckle from Roach sends tingles down your spine. "Meat—dude, she's beet red. Why did you have to say that?"

You can't see him, but you can hear Meat sputter, "W-Wait, really? I'm sorry, Private! Didn't mean to embarrass you—"

"Shut it, Meat," Ghost snaps. "You'll embarrass her further if you keep talking."

"Private, huh?" Roach raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, forgot the third condition is that we can't know her actual name. Whoever set up these rules must be a weird person."

A laugh forces its way out of your mouth and a genuine smile spreads across your red-tinted face at the mention of Seraph. You remind yourself this is all happening because of her….but damn her stupid rules!

"She's here to watch us train, as you idiots may already know," Ghost starts. You look up quietly, stealing a glimpse of his skull balaclava and dark-tinted glasses. Averting your eyes when he turned to you, he continues, "We'll be training tomorrow morning, so you can come to the training grounds at that time. Maybe the captain already informed you."

"Oh, Archer and I are doing some target practise this evening," Toad volunteers cheerfully.

Ghost nods. "Alright. Private, you can follow them later, if you want."

You nod your head and subconsiously smile as your thoughts wander off to Archer. Now that you think about it, Archer has yet to show up in the mob of men surrounding you. Soap is missing too, but you consider it normal. You wonder how Archer looks like, his personality and his voice…

Then your thoughts wander back to Seraph. _'Should I be happy or angry with her?'_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Good question to ask yourself. I'm evil for setting up those rules, and those men are going to strictly follow them. Would you be happy or angry with me? MUAHAHAHHA xD_

_If the reaction in there was not what you would have done/thought, do tell me! I'd love to hear how you'd handle the situation above. I tried imagining myself in 'Private's place to bring out the best possible reaction…_

_Oh! And to **Boopem **for the lovely review on **Armadale Bay Beach: **I'll take your request into consideration, and thanks for supporting! :3_

_Please leave a review! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Oh my gosh, thanks so much to all the reviews! ;_; I wasn't expecting such feedback, honestly. I'm really flattered that you're all enjoying this. I'll put as much effort as I can to make it the ultimate fangirl guilty pleasure, lol. Just promise me one thing: **immerse** yourself into the story to truly feel the excitement xD_

_This is longer than the last, stretching about 4,000 words, which is 1000 words more than my average. Excuse any mistakes that I may have left out in this draft._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>By the time you've returned to your room after lunch, it's already half-past three. You can't help but feel as though there's something <em>off <em>about you being there, but you can't quite put your finger on it. With a sigh, you check your cellphone and find no new messages or missed calls. That's strange, since you expect Seraph would have tried to contact you by now.

You turn off the screen of your phone and stuff it into your pocket, along with the earphones.

"Target practise with Archer and Toad is at five," you remind yourself. "Roach invited me to the recreation room to play some games with him and the rest…"

You exit your room and begin walking along the path towards the recreation room, as shown to you by Soap earlier that day. The numerous doors you pass by on your way make you wonder whether they lead to the members' bedrooms. As you turn left, you bump into Roach.

"So you've decided to play some Xbox with us, I presume," Roach flashes you a lopsided smirk. "I just came out from there. Royce and Ghost are playing a fighting game and everybody's betting on who's gonna win."

"It'll take a while before I get my turn, I guess," you giggle slightly, before giving him a questioning glance. "Where are _you _going?"

Roach hesitates, before answering with a quaver of uncertainty. "I'm gonna go invite Captain MacTavish." Then, he adds in with a firmer tone. "He always stays holed up in his office whenever there's too much paperwork to do."

You arch an eyebrow. "Invite him? Won't that be a challenge? You said yourself there's a lot of work for him to get done."

"I-I'll think of a way, somehow," Roach stammers, a smile threatening to crack on his face. It does not go pass your notice that his cheeks hint traces of pink. "Besides, he's easy to persuade."

"Oh, I see," you nod, slightly curious as to why he paused before replying to you. You shrug the inquisitiveness off. "Alright, go on. I'll see you and So—erm, the captain, later."

Roach passes you and walks down the hallway you came from. He is unaware that your gaze follows him as he stops at one of the doors in the passageway. However, he pauses at the said door and glances, almost furtively, in your direction. From his facial expression and body language, you get a feeling that he's disturbed that you're still there.

You force a few steps after he throws a quick, guilty glance your direction for a second time. However, instead of walking away completely, you stop once you disappear at the left turn and lean against the wall. Roach's behaviour is _way too suspicous. _You aren't going to let this slip past your fingers.

A few seconds after you turned and hid, a creaking sound ensues. Two voices are faintly audible to hearing, and a soft _thump _follows soon after, signifying the close of a door. Taking a deep breath, you gather the courage to take a peek into the hallway and, to your surprise, learn that Roach is missing.

'_He must have entered Soap's office already…' _you think to yourself, biting your bottom lip. _'No knocks, no calling out…it's as though he just walked into the room without notifying Soap of his arrival..."_

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. A sergeant wouldn't do that to the captain of a task force, would he? He'd knock, at least.

On an impulse, you sprint back down the hallway, your footsteps making no sound as they swiftly brought you to the door which Roach disappeared through. You stand in front of it, unsure of what the hell you're doing, but before you can question the risks of getting caught for eavesdropping, a tired-sounding sigh reaches your ears from inside the room.

"You know I have a lot of work, Roach."

"Which is exactly why you should join us," Roach argues good-naturedly, a chuckle following his sentence. "I think everybody will enjoy having you there."

There's some silence, before Soap answers quietly. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I can't. You know how daft and slow I am to filling out these bloody reports; how much time I take to get them done. They're due in two days, and I've barely gone through a quarter of it."

"Spend an hour with us, at least. Ask Ghost to help you with all this later."

Another sigh. "As tempting as your invitation is, I'd rather not, mate. Sorry."

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Roach chirps, still not willing to give in. You stifle a chuckle at the cheeriness in his voice.

Another tense moment of silence. You figure Soap must have shook his head, for Roach urges, "It'll be _really _entertaining to play video games with them, trust me. Geez, what do I have to do to get your arse out of here?"

A screech, similar to when one pushes a chair back from a desk, is heard. Then, footsteps.

You sense movement in the room, but you can't really hear anything. Then, about ten seconds later, you hear Soap's voice. This time, however, it's low and seductive.

"Nice selection of words, Roach," Soap says, "Hmm…I know a number of things you can do to get _my arse_ out of this cramped up office, and they're much more entertainingthan sitting in front of a gaming console…"

Your breath hitches and eyes widen. Did you just hear that correctly?

"Oh, really?" Roach's voice is cheeky, as though he's playing along. "What's that?"

"You know for yourself, Gary," Soap chuckles.

Gary? _What?_

As a million thoughts run through your head at the same time, a muffled moan comes from the room. Your eyes snap from the floor to the door and your face flushes red.

"Umphh—not now, _John._"

Your hand flies to your face and clamps your mouth as you fight back a gasp. John? _John? _Did Roach just refer to _his captain _by his first name?

"I'll go with you, if you promise me two things," Soap mutters, "First…you, me, my bedroom, tonight. Second, let's spend a few minutes here…"

You hear movement again. "John, I said not now. The others don't know that I've gone to invite you to the recreation room, other than the Private. They think I went to get a snack. They'll suspect if I take too long."

Every part of your body wouldn't budge, despite the scream in your mind to turn and leave before the door suddenly opens. However, when another stifled moan reaches your ears, a small cry of excitement gets caught in your throat as you force yourself to move. That's it—time to go. You've heard enough for the day!

As you speed-walk silently to the recreation room, a grin subconsciously plays across your face as the conversation from earlier replays in your mind. There's _something_ going on between Roach and Soap, and the thought of it just makes you want to scream with excitement and bury your face in a pillow.

By the time you reach the open arch leading to your destination, a loud uproar comes from inside, mixed with incoherent curses. A soft smile replaces your stupid grin as you enter the room and find some people seated in front of the Xbox 360 gaming console and TV. Ghost and Royce were holding the controllers, whereas Scarecrow, Meat and Ozone were either laughing or cursing.

"Hey, Private," Royce greets you with a self-satisfied grin.

"What's all this commotion about?" you ask.

"Bloody wanker beat me in Tekken!" Ghost suddenly replies, his voice vehement. He was obviously frustrated that he lost. Luckily, his balaclava hides his expression.

Your eyes wander to the screen. Both men used female characters in their battle. The thought rather unsettles you, but the whole situation itself is hilarious. "So, who bet for Royce and who bet for Ghost?"

"Ozone put money on me," Royce answers. "Meat and Scarecrow placed their bets on Ghost."

"The controls are bloody confusing," Ghost suddenly remarks, rather pathetically, causing both you and Royce to laugh. The excuse is hilarious.

"Meat and Ozone are playing the next turn." Royce patted on the space between him and Ghost on the three-seat sofa. "You can sit here, Private. I bet Meat would like that, wouldn't he?"

You smile and take your place in the middle as Royce and Ghost stand up to give space for Meat and Ozone. Ghost remains standing whereas Royce sits at Meat's former place on the loveseat to the left. All of you settle down as the game flashes to the character selection menu.

"Where's Roach?" Ghost asks, looking around. Apparently, he was too absorbed in the earlier fight that he didn't notice the sergeant leave.

"He went to invite So—uh, Captain MacTavish to play Xbox with us," you reply, making a mental note to _never _say Soap aloud. Urgh, that's one thing you have to get used to.

"Really? I thought he said he was going to get some snacks," Scarecrow arches a brow.

"MacTavish, eh?" Ghost repeats, his tone low and doubtful. You can see behind his red-tinted glasses that he's narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "It's already been more than eight minutes since Roach left, hasn't it?"

Nobody replies, but as you blankly watch Ozone and Meat begin their virtual battle (still using female characters? What's up with that?), Ghost's words absorb into your brain. What he said is suggestive. It's as though he's got an inkling that something is going on between Roach and the captain.

Then, almost as if on cue, Roach and Soap walked into the recreation room. Ghost greets them with a small hum of acknowledgement.

Suddenly, Meat curses and your eyes snap back to the screen. Ozone beat Meat already? That was fast.

"Oh dude, you really suck," Ozone laughs, victorious.

"Alright, my turn," Roach grins, snatching the controller away from the frustrated Meat and pulling him out of his seat, before reclaiming the spot next to you as his own. Meat glares at Roach, but doesn't argue over the stolen spot and sits on the floor near Royce.

You stare at Roach, taking in his condition. A pink blush faintly tints his cheeks, his hair's messier than the last time you saw him only five minutes ago, his shirt has creases as though somebody had been pulling on them…and his lips…

"Your lips look swollen," you comment, lips twitching as you fight back a mischievous smile.

Roach looks at you, startled. The expression on his face is a mixture of embarrassment, surprise and hesitance. You watch, amused, as he comes up with a lame excuse.

"M-My lips have been dry lately," he says, tongue sliding out to moisten his already-damp bottom lip. To you, it looks as though somebody chewed on it. You have a good idea it was Soap. "I—uh—constantly lick them so they won't crack."

"_Right,_" you nod, grinning slightly. "I'll give you my lip balm, then. Now, before you protest, lips balm isn't lip gloss—they don't colour your lips, they just keep them moist."

You furtively glance at Soap and Ghost, who are both (obviously) listening in on your conversation with Roach. A smirk falls upon your lips as you add, "There's cocunut-flavoured lip balm, but I also have strawberry."

You watch Soap's and Ghost's reactions. Ghost's blue eyes widen a bit underneath his glasses and he suddenly coughs, whereas Soap's cheeks absorb into a slight red. The inner side of you starts to laugh—their responses are better than you expected!

Roach just looks scandalized. You giggle, aware that Roach knew his superiors were listening and that you just embarrassed him.

'_I bet they're just thinking of what it would be like to taste strawberry when they kiss you,' _you think to yourself, cheekily looking at Roach in the eye.

"T-Thanks, but…seriously, Private?" Roach sputters, giving you a disbelieving look. You shrug and turn back to the screen, where it shows the character selection menu again. You hope you look innocent enough as to not reveal any hint that you know what's going on between Roach and Soap.

Roach waves off his mortification and selects a character to use in his turn against Ozone. To your confusion, both select female characters.

"What is up with you guys only choosing the girl fighters?" you ask, frowning.

"Oh, that's easy," Meat grins. "First, the girls don't have such fucked up confusing moves, so they're easier to control for us. Second is something nobody but me will admit—whenever the chicks fall or turn to dodge, their boobs jiggle!"

The whole room fell silent. Even the game pauses as Ozone and Roach slowly turn their heads. Everybody stares at Meat.

"What?" Meat asks innocently. Then, he points an accusing finger to all the men in the room. "Don't deny it, guys! We all know it's true!"

You can feel your face heat up and you wag your head, facepalming. The embarrassment leans more towards you, courtesy of being the only girl there.

"Even _you two, _Ghost and captain!" Meat blames.

"I've never played this game before," Soap counters, before looking at Ghost with a small grin. "Don't know about Ghost, though. Is it true, Riley?"

"Sod off, MacTavish," Ghost snaps, unintentionally giving himself away.

Soap laughs, and this just lightens the room and lifts the awkward feeling away. You can't help but smile, but it's more of a grimace mixed with a smile since you still feel rather humiliated. Roach and Ozone resume their battle and it's soon learned that what Meat said is true.

Roach wins this time. Everybody cheers for Soap to go against Ghost. At first, both are reluctant, but they give in after a few minutes. You gulp, a nervous feeling crowding your chest as the captain and lieutenant settle down on either side of you. Since the sofa was rather small, you kept your hands on your lap and pulled your legs until the knees and ankles touch, just so you won't end up having any physical contact with either of the high-ranked soldiers. You know that if their skin brushed against yours, you'd only end up embarrassed.

As they browsed through characters, Scarecrow suddenly looks your way and asks, "Hey, Private, can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Are you a virgin?"

You stare at him blankly, unable to register his blunt question. However, both Ghost _and _Soap turn to glare at Scarecrow.

"I thought I said no funny stuff," Ghost warns, his voice intimidating.

"It's just a question, sir," Scarecrow's grin takes away all the supposed innocence in his earlier inquiry.

"Just a question, my arse," Soap mutters, returning to the screen and finally selecting a character.

Relieved you're saved from answering the question, you look for something else to avoid awkward silence. Suddenly, as Soap locks in his character, you gasp and point at the screen. "Wait a minute! _You_ picked a girl character, too!"

Soap permits a sly grin on his face as the other spectating men began to make a commotion about the fact. Ghost chuckles—one that sends tingles down your spine, especially with how pleasant it sounded when it hit your ears. And then _he_ picks a female fighter as well.

You roll your eyes and sigh as the battle begins.

* * *

><p>As you entered the section of the base for target practise, you suddenly hear Toad's laughter fill the empty atmosphere, filled with the chuckles of another person. You stop and listen, bewildered.<p>

The chuckles sound reluctant and almost in agony. "C-Cut it out, Chris!"

You frown, unable to recognize the voice. However, the peculiar accent _does _remind you of somebody.

Then, Toad speaks. His voice is lower than before and sounds a bit too flirtatious for your standards. It also has a hint of mischief. "Aww, you know you like it, Ian! Come here~"

Toad laughs softly as sporadic chuckles ensue. Your mind puts together what's possibly going on, and you flush as all the puzzle pieces fall into place. Ian must be Archer. Hmm…quiet place, nobody's around, just him and Toad, cheeky laughter, suggestive lines…that could only mean _one_ thing.

'_**Don't**__ give away your position,' _you remind yourself, biting your bottom lip as you choke back a squeal. Just a few more steps and you'd probably be where Toad and Archer are standing. Furtively, you take one step forward, hoping they won't hear you breathing, especially since they're on the sniper team; two of the most cautious and observant men in the task force.

"No, seriously! Chris!"

You stifle a laugh. Archer sounds hilarious!

You inhale deeply and step out, revealing yourself to the duo. Toad was bent over Archer, who was leaning away from his spotter with a mixed-emotions expression on his face, Toad's hands poking at Archer's torso. They both freeze at the sight of you, eyes wide with surprised expressions. Fighting back a sly, fangirl smile that will probably look as creepy as hell, you pull on the best innocent face you can make.

You take advantage of the brief moment of stunned silence. Toad's hands are definitely all over Archer's upper body, and Archer's cheeks still hold traces of pink.

Archer is handsome—even more so than you expected, with broad shoulders, a lean build, cool brown hair, slight bristle about his jaw, and sky-blue eyes. Luckily, the awkwardness of the situation is the only thing that prevents you from squealing at the sight of him. That doesn't stop your blush, though.

It's then you notice something odd. They don't look like they were doing _you-know-what. _Your mind rearranges the puzzle pieces, and as they come together into a newpicture of their situation, you say—awkwardly and slowly. "W-Wait…were you tickling him?"

Archer stands up straight, slightly embarrassed, and glares at Toad. Toad coughs and scratches the back of his head.

"You know what? You don't have to answer that," you wag your head with a small smile, suddenly feeling stupid and perverted for thinking dirty of what they were doing. "So…where do I sit?"

"Oh, yeah..." Toad looks around the area as Archer picks up two sniper rifles from a nearby table. You immediately recognize the weapons as the Intervention. "I guess you can sit behind us. You'll have a better view of what we do from there."

"_Or, _you can go prone with us," Archer suggests, a faint smirk on his face.

Toad seems uncomfortable with the idea, and you are, too (since you think sitting behind them would be an _awesome _chance to stare at their arses—), but before either of you can say anything in protest, Archer walks away to lead you to the shooting range.

Before long, you're already in a prone position between Archer and Toad, which is rather strange, especially since you're pinned between _two hot guys_, for God's sake. The feeling is similar to when you sat between Soap and Ghost.

…

_Shit_, can this day get any better?

Archer explains to you about how they play their roles as the sniper team. He clarifies about numerous things, talking steadily and professional in his cool, calm tone (not that you're actually listening to what he's saying—who can resist getting lost in that velvet-y voice?). Many times throughout his explanation, Toad pipes up to slip in a small remark, but either receives a glare or an interruption from Archer.

You feel pity for Toad, but then got lost in fascination as they take turns popping targets and shooting them down. Each shot is precise and scarily accurate, which isn't much of surprise since they're both snipers.

If there's one thing you notice, it's that Toad and Archer constantly make eye contact. You aren't sure whether they're sending mental messages to each other, like what they most probably do on actual mission, or whether they're mentally _taunting _each other. They exchange looks, smirks, glares—and, interestingly enough, Archer says something _to you _each time he finishes eye-contact with the spotter.

Forty-five minutes later, you decide to go back to your room. All three of you stand up and you smile gratefully at both of them.

"Thank you," you say, before excusing yourself.

As you walk towards the exit, you use the route which has a lot of racks and cabinets in the way, forcing a windy path to the large door. Also, it presents a lot of hiding places. You step behind a rack lined with dusty knick-knacks and items and listen intently. Fortunately, you can see both men from where you stood.

"Okay—what's up with you looking at me the whole time Private was here?" Toad asks Archer, pouting slightly.

Archer shrugs. "No particular reason."

Archer turns around to get back to training, but Toad holds his arm. You watch with growing anticipation as Toad narrows his green eyes as the Brit. "You seem fond of the Private," he says, voice soft and suspicious.

"She's pretty and intelligent," Archer smirks, shrugging again. You blush at the compliment, but your thoughts don't linger much on the remark, for you're more eager to see where the conversation is heading. "What's wrong, Chris? Are you jealous?"

A blush creeps up to Toad's cheeks. His embarrassed frown has an innocent extent to it, making him look irresistably adorable. He doesn't let go of his hold around Archer's forearm, and then you realize how cute they look together.

"Jealous? What makes you think I'm jealous?" Toad smirks, though his voice sounds nervous.

Archer chuckles. "You're obviously uncomfortable with the young lass, aren't you, Chris? I didn't pay any attention to you during the whole time she was here."

Toad's eyes widened, looking at his partner incredulously. "Are you telling me you did that all on purpose? Just to make me jealous?"

"Oh, do I hear you admitting it?" Archer teases, his smirk intimidating the American.

"You like her, don't you?"

Your heart is pounding against your chest. Not because of the question, it's because Archer grabs Toad's arm and leans toward him. You aren't sure whether you're hallucinating as a result from the excitement or anticipation, but Archer's lips meet with Toad's.

Toad looks startled from the sudden contact, but he closes his eyes and returns the kiss. Their lip contact is patient, slow and steady. At this point, you're almost sure your face is redder than a tomato and it's increasingly difficult to continue watching and stifle giggles at the same time. You also wonder whether you're going to get a nosebleed…

As Christian leans into his partner, the small groan from Archer sends a jittery feeling surging through your body. Suddenly, Archer pulls away. He doesn't move far, though, for his face is still only inches apart from Toad's. You hold back a squeal from the closeness, and it comes out as an aggravated exhale.

Archer smirks and carresses the American's cheek. "As much as I'd like to continue this," he whispers, the deadly silence of the room enabling you to hear him, "I don't think now is the right time."

"Why not?" Toad asks. His eyes are hooded and his damp lips glisten underneath the lighting.

"Because I think there's somebody here."

You get a heart attack when Archer suddenly looks in your direction. Instinctively, you lower your head, hoping the tiers of the racks will shield you. His cool chuckle becomes audible to your hearing, and you hear a small sucking sound similar to a full kiss on the lips.

"Let's get back to training, Chris."

Without any further ado, you stealthily slip out the exit.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_And __**that, **__'Private', is not the last you'll be seeing of Archer and Toad. Heh. xD_

_Oh, and __**kiernanhunter **__suggested about having one member defy my rule and flirt with the Private, and maybe even do something more serious *wink*. Hmm…I like the sound of it, actually. Which character should that be? Any options? I need your opinion for the ultimate guilty pleasure._

_Anyway, thanks for reading. Leave a review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Thanks again for the reviews, both from the anonymous and registered readers! Seriously, no amount of thanks can describe how happy I am with all your kind comments…they're all motivating and really just make me smile/laugh._

_To __**Boopem: **__I love your reviews, seriously. You're too kind! xD And when I meant I won't be writing Soap/Roach, I meant them detailed smut stories. "Innocent" romance? I can do that ;)_

_Don't think I haven't read any of the other reviews. Every single one means a lot to me. Thanks again, and here's another chapter :D_

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><p>Finally reaching your room, the excitement bottled up in you can no longer be contained. You lock the door, turn around and then laugh out loud, the laughs wavering slightly from nervousness mixed with thrill as a result of witnessing such a heart-pounding moment. Leaning against the door, the laughter dies down and your gaze redirects to the alarm clock on the end table near your bed.<p>

It's nearly six o'clock in the evening. As your mind ponders off as to what else to do, the phone in your pocket vibrates and, removing the device, you discover it's a message. At first your mind was too occupied with other matters to actually care about what's written, but then your excitement drains away as you read the content.

'_The members usually clean themselves up from seven to nine at night,' _it was written in the text, _'So, I advise you take a bath from six to seven, since the showers are almost always empty. Still, I can't guarantee your "friends" will stay out—I mean, they can walk in any moment.' _Insert a cheeky smiley face at the end, and Seraph's name to signify the sender. She even manages to add, _'Hey, just kidding. Getting laid is against the second rule.'_

You can feel the colour draining from your face. Of course, how could you have forgotten? No wonder you felt as though something was _off _earlier that day—the showers-with-no-stalls issue has been a subconscious worry you forgot to confront Seraph about.

And now she tells you to just go ahead and _hope _nobody walks in? It's not like there are _schedules _for those places.

Another text message comes in. It's longer than the last one, and you can feel your heart slowly sink with each word. _'There should be a conjoining room next to the showers where it's carpeted and has mirrors. Members usually undress or gussy up there before and after showering. It's best if you bring a new outfit with you so you can dress up straight-away after bathing to avoid going through those hallways draped only in a towel, and bring a bathing robe. Keep it close so you can easily reach out for it, just in case anybody decides to enter.'_

Facepalming, you groan at the sinking feeling in your stomach. Great…this is what you'll have to do for the next seven days.

The clock indicates three minutes past six. If what Seraph says is true, it's best to go take a bath now.

You push yourself off the bed and kneel down next to the bag, making a mental note to unpack it later since the luggage had yet to be sorted out in the room. After removing a towel, you fold some fresh clothes together with the undergarments and wrap it up with the bathing robe into a neat, square package. Slinging the towel over your shoulder and pinning the 'package' underneath your arm, you face the door and take a few moments to breathe deeply.

Finally managing to build up the courage, you open the door slightly and peek out. Fortunately, the hallway is empty and you slip out to begin walking towards the showers, praying you wouldn't meet with any members on the way. It's a relief that the said room is less than two minutes away from the hallway of your room. In fact, the shower room is in the part of the base housing the members' bedrooms, so they're the only obstacle between you and your destination.

You're still dressed in the clothes you changed into earlier in the afternoon, but with the towel over your shoulder, it's an obvious sign you're about to take a bath. Sure, it wouldn't be embarrassing if you run into a member as you are _now—_but then they'd know you're about to shower, and there's the possibility of news spreading.

As you reach a T-junction hallway, you hear voices on the alley to the right, where the showers are located at the end. You stop and remain still, but the voices are faint and are soon followed by the close of doors. For the next few minutes, there's nothing but silence, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you turn and meet with an empty hallway.

Not willing to take a risk, you sprint ahead, silently passing numerous doors, and reach the double-doors at the end of the hallway. The entrance is large, composed of stained glass, wooden frames and metal knobs, with the words '_Shower Room' _imprinted in bold letters on each door.

Before entering, you listen first. No running water, no murmurs, no movements—so you open the door noiselessly and peek in. As expected, there's nobody inside, so you slip in and close the door, grimacing as there's no lock for your convenience.

True enough, there's a conjoining room to the left of the room and you enter it, the surface underneath your feet changing from damp, cool porcelain to smooth, warm carpet. The room is squarish and bare other than counters, sinks and mirrors. You remove your folded clothes and undergarments from the bathing robe and place it neatly on the counter.

Then, you turn and stare at the reflection in the mirror. The hesitance is obvious in your eyes, your lips are tugged into a frown and your fingers are twitching. There's no denying the next step is to undress so you can proceed to the showers. Carefully holding the edge of your shirt, you throw a quick glance to the door and hold your breath at the sound of voices.

"Hey...no, it's next hour….seen the Private?" you can't tell whose voice it is, due to it being near to inaudible and the sentence itself constantly trailing off. However, it's quite obvious somebody's looking for you.

"No…maybe the shooting range…" a second person replied. The situation in the shower room is incredibly silent; the only things you can hear is your breathing and the steady, constant drops of water coming from a tap somewhere nearby.

You stay still for a few more minutes, and eventually release the breath you were holding in. Despite still being hesitant, you decide it's best to be quick rather than be overly-cautious and constantly delay the bath. You strip off your clothes and wrap yourself up in the bathing robe, bringing the towel with you as you leave the square chamber to re-enter the showers part of the shower room.

As expected, everything is bare and without stalls. Bright and dark blue porcelain tile the floors and theme the room. Everything is relatively clean and there's one metal bar next to each shower, serving the purpose to hang towels. You think of getting the one closest to the entrance of the 'preparation room', but then, it's too close to the main doors. Eventually, you settle on the farthest shower for safety.

Throwing the towel over the metal bar, you slowly remove the bathing robe, back facing the main entrance. Anybody who enters will have to circle around to see you, as there is a wall in the middle presenting more showers on either side of it, obscuring you from the direct view.

Hanging the bathrobe over with the towel, you reach out for the tap. The metal is cold against your skin and hard to twist. Adding a bit more effort, you manage to turn it, wincing at the annoyingly loud creak it makes in the process, and water finally rains down on you.

At first, the sensation comes as a shock, but you eventually loosen up underneath the feeling of warm water running down your skin. The sound coming from your bath is relatively at minimum, providing an extra bit of comfort in your moment of insecurity.

Fancying you heard a creak, you wipe your face and glance over your shoulder, only to find nobody there. A smile plays across your face as you return to the shower—you must be so worried that you're hearing things.

Three minutes into the bath, you move your face away from the water. The hot water caused a damp mist around your area of the shower and it reaches up to your knees. Slightly amused by the fact, you look for some soap, only to discover that the white porcelain sticking out from the wall is empty.

You're fine with that fact. Shrugging your shoulders, you turn back to your shower to re-immerse in the leisure again, but then you notice movement by the corner of your eyes.

You freeze, still facing the shower. Your eyes widen, your breath gets caught in your lungs, and your heart rate increases. No, you're hallucinating! There's nobody there.

"If you're wondering why—"

The deep voice stops dead, and so does your heart.

With blood rushing to your cheeks, you glance over your shoulder, only to see the captain of the task force looking at you with his mouth slightly agape—as though he stopped midsentence, which he did—without a shirt and towel drapped loosely around his lower body. His sky-blue eyes stare at your face, and then it lowers to your torso, then rapidly back up to your face again.

"S-Soap?!" you stammer, grabbing the bathing robe and slipping it on. You can feel the steam coming from the heat on your cheeks as you step out from underneath the running water to avoid soaking your bathing robe. By the time you look back up at him, his face is beet red and he's looking away, an awkward frown on his face.

"I—uh, I—" Soap stutters, his eyes constantly attempting to look at you but averts the gaze every time. "Sorry, I didn't know it was you."

You don't know what to say. Biting your bottom lip, you furtively hug your shoulders, feeling naked despite having the robe on. "N-No, it's okay," you mutter, voice wavering from obvious embarrassment. "At least I know this is…er—accidental."

"I'll go now," Soap coughs. He turns around and walks away, but you don't watch him leave. You're too busy biting your lip to prevent the half-laugh, half-scream from escaping your mouth.

You lean forward, allowing your forehead to touch the cold porcelain. After a few deep breaths, your heart rate lessens slightly, though the blush is still, most probably, lingering on your cheeks, and your knees feel weak. The half-laugh, half-scream of mortification is successfully suppressed into a loud, aggravated exhale.

Well, at least Soap wasn't _naked _when you saw him…but, then again, a part of you kind of hoped that towel wasn't there…

You flashback to when you turned and saw Soap. Those muscular arms, chiseled chest and prominent abs—_**hot**__ damn…_

'_Wait, what?' _you snap out of your strange musings and wipe your damp face several times. You stay there for a few moments to pull yourself together. Finally, you decide that the bath is complete and you walk towards the 'preperation room', using your towel to dry up your dripping-wet hair.

As you turn and step into the carpeted, square room, you pause when you find Soap there, staring at himself in the mirror. He looks at you from the reflection and blushes, and for a brief moment you admire how adorable he is when he's shy, before wrapping the towel around your torso as you remember you're only in a bathing robe.

"Look, Private, I—" Soap starts off in a flustered mess, and you raise a hand to wave it off.

"No, no, it's alright," you reply, averting eye contact as you move to the counter at the other end of the small room, opposite him. "What were you going to tell me?"

Soap seems a bit confused at first, but remembers and then says with a small smile. "I was going to tell you that we haven't re-supplied the soap because of some prank the numptys pulled off a few days ago. It's a long story."

"Oh," is all you said as you stare at your clothes, contemplating how to put on underwear and a _bra _when Soap is still there.

"By the way, you called me something else just now," Soap's eyes narrow as you both turn and lock gazes. "You called me Soap?"

The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning. It stuns you for a split-second, before you sputter quickly. "_Uhhhh…_I said _Soap _because…because there was no soap! I mean, I was just thinking about it when you turned out to be—erm, _there_—and, uh…it just slipped out my mouth. You know, surprised and all that…"

Soap nods and then shrugs his shoulders. You inaudibly sigh in relief that you've convinced him. He doesn't say another word as he exits the 'preperation room', and in a few moments you hear water running. A blush tints your cheeks as you realize he's bathing, but you ignore the weird feeling in your chest. You move to where Soap once was—near the mirrors, as your clothes are placed on the counter next to the mirrors.

Unfolding the clothes, you proceed to dress.

You're cautious, however. There's no way you're going to remove the bathing robe straight away—that is too risky. With the bathing robe still on, you pull your underwear on, and then the loose pants, which is a part of the folded outfit you brought along. With that done, you inhale deeply and hold the bra in your hands. Furtively looking around, you slip the bathrobe off our shoulders and put the bra on. You're successful, without any interruptions, and smile to yourself in accomplishment as your hands clip it together firmly on your torso.

Sadly, before you can reach out for your shirt, the main entrance opens and somebody runs into the 'preperation room'. The sudden presence of this third person startles you, and he obviously didn't expect to see you either, for he freezes and stares at you blankly. And, since you're standing in front of a mirror, he can obviously see your upper body from the reflection.

It took a split second for you to register the person as Royce.

Face absorbing into an abnormal shade of pink, you snatch your shirt and hug your shoudlers again in another pathetic attempt to block the 'view'. Your gaze falls downcast as you bite the insides of your cheeks, the embarrassment too immense to put into words.

Royce suddenly goes into a coughing fit, forcing a small smile from you amid the humiliation. He murmurs what sounds like an apology and turns around. With his back facing you, you quickly put the shirt on.

Now fully dressed, you call out, "Alright, you can turn now."

He hesitantly turns, obviously uncomfortable and shy. You admire his gentleman-like and respectful reaction to the situation, and flash him an appreciative smile. He nods in response to this smile, and you take your towel and bathrobe before exiting the showers, not looking in the showers' direction in fear of seeing Soap…bathing…and naked…

The images of the captain fade away from your mind as you close the main door behind you. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth and you lean against the entrance, a giggle threatening to escape as a result from mixed feelings. You feel embarrassed, yet excited and jumpy. Typical fangirl-ism symptoms—most probably due to the encounter with Soap.

As you walk ahead to go back to your room, Chemo suddenly pops his head out from one of the doors. He stares at you, surprised.

"What the— wait, isn't the captain in there? I saw Royce enter, too, but—"

You raise a hand and he stops the incoherent stammers. Smiling, you walk past him, saying simply. "Don't ask. It's a long story."

* * *

><p>At a quarter to seven, you enter the cafeteria. There's a large commotion going on there.<p>

"What's happening?" you ask. The lieutenant is standing behind the crowd, watching the members as they crowd around something and argue over it.

"Ice cream, apparently," he answers, his voice carrying traces of amusement. "Some truck came by and the lad said someone paid to have a container of chocolate ice-cream, along with about three dozen popsicles, sent to the base."

"_What?_"

"I know—I can hardly believe it myself," Ghost shrugs. "No cones or anything like that was included, so those wankers grabbed spoons and cups and just crowded the container with the chocolate ice-cream. It's the size of a pail, Private, can you believe that?"

Both of you stare at the crowd for a few more moments, before Ghost sighs. "I swear my men will be adding a few pounds by the end of this week."

You have a good idea it's Seraph who ordered the ice-cream. "Who is paying for this?"

"Beats me, but I do know that General Shepherd had to sign the paper," Ghost replied. From the tone of his voice, you can almost imagine the smirk underneath his mask. "I wonder which one of these idiotic bastards had the balls to pull off such a prank."

"I don't think it was any of them," you say, and Ghost turns to look at you. Ignoring his gaze, you shrug and ask, "Do we have any of that bread for hotdogs?"

He nods and points to an open doorway leading to the kitchen of the cafeteria. You enter and open one of the cabinets, before removing the long bread from the plastic and getting a spoon.

"About to enter the fray?" Ghost asks as you approach the crowd.

You grin at him. It took a while, but you finally manage to get three full scoops of creamy chocolate in the slit of the bread. By this time, many of the members have already gotten what they wanted, and are scattered about the canteen enjoying the sweet treats.

A small, childish smile plays on your face as you sit next to Roach, who is feasting on an orange Popsicle. Before long, Ghost takes a place on your other side. Ah, here we go again—pinned between two handsome men? You've been there twice, but that doesn't mean the feeling gets any easier.

"Ice-cream on hotdog bread?" Ghost inquires.

"Yeah, have you tried?" you ask, taking a lick of the ice-cream.

"No," he replies, "I'm not so fond of sweet things."

You hum in achknowledgement and proceed to devour your ice-cream. Usually, you pinch of bits of the bread, scoop some ice-cream on it and then put it into your mouth until the whole thing is small enough to be eaten whole. However, you take a few minutes licking the ice-cream just like that, sliding over it in a vertical order due to the shape of the bread.

The members are watching you, strangely. Though Roach is just enjoying is Popsicle like normal, Scarecrow, Meat, Ozone and Rocket at the opposite table are looking at you attentively, whereas Ghost's eyes are wide behind his glasses as he stares at you. Noticing their gazes, you flash them inquisitive looks.

"What?" you demand, taking a final lick.

Ghost looks away and clears his throat. Ozone blushes slightly and looks down. Rocket swallows, then averts his gaze. A creepy smirk suddenly plays across Meat's face, whereas Scarecrow grins.

"Ooh, Private~" Scarecrow throws a flirtatious wink. "Are you _sure _you're a virgin?"

At first, you're confused. What the hell brought that up?

And then you realize it's due to the way you're eating the ice-cream.

Blushing like crazy, you groan and throw a sideways glance at Ghost. Damn his balaclava. There's no telling what's going on in his mind due to that thing covering his face.

"Is the same dirty thing going on through _your _mind, lieutenant?" you question him bluntly, arching an unimpressed brow.

He seems surprised at the inquiry and doesn't answer. Pinching some bread and wiping it over the creamy chocolate, you grunt, "Oh, so _Roach _can suck that Popsicle like a pro and _nobody _wonders how he got so good at it…"

Roach chokes on his ice-cream, whereas Ghost suddenly laughs. Unaware of the significance of your sentence, you stare at them, bewildered. Roach's face is beet red, whereas the glint in Ghost's blue eyes is sly and mischievous. It takes a while for you to register what's going on in their minds, but then you get a solid idea.

"_Oh…_" you say, subconsciously. The blush becomes deeper. For Ghost to laugh at the remark only meant one thing: he already knows what Roach can do with his tongue. And there's only one kind of situation where he could have acquired that information: if they were having...you know.

_Shit_, the thought of it makes you want to squeal again…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I don't know whether it's an international thing, but here at home we usually eat ice-cream on that long hotdog bread, heh. I was licking one earlier today when I realize how **wrong **it looked...urgh..._

_Anyway, please review! :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Chapter 4, and only Day 2? I guess this will definitely be longer than the traditional five chapters, heh. Anwyay, sorry if this is a bit boring—I needed to get this off my shoulders and get rid of the writer's block. Again, thank you for such kind reviews. Especially since the last chapter's scene was suggestive, it was hilarious to hear your reactions. _

_Here's another chapter. :)_

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><p>After waking up, you trudge into the bathroom, which only consists of a toilet, mirror and sink. You twist the tap, cup some of the water and splash it over your face, the fresh cool liquid against your skin bringing gentle refreshment from the heavy sleepiness one so often feels in the morning. It takes a few minutes to brush your teeth and fix up your hair.<p>

Exiting the bathroom, you walk over to the end table next to the single bed and pick up your phone. It's about a quarter past eight in the morning.

You change out of your nightwear and into a comfortable outfit of jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, just in case you're required to do some work. Stuffing your phone into your pocket, you head out of the room and towards the cafeteria for breakfast.

It surprises you that the said place is nearly empty, for you were expecting a hectic, lively situation with the members fussing over the food. Only one person is inside, sitting at a table in the far corner, his back facing you. With that hairstyle it's obviously Soap.

After taking a warm scoop of chicken soup, the pot containing it still strangely full, into a medium-sized bowl, you make your way to where the captain is seated. He's staring off into space, eyes blank but expression thoughtful, hands holding onto a steaming cup of something that smells like coffee.

"Good morning," you greet, sitting opposite him.

He blinks, looks at you for a few moments, and then spares a small smile. "Good morning, Private," he returns the greeting, taking another sip of his drink. His sigh of content is inaudible, but you can tell he's relieved by the taste of the coffee from his facial expression.

Noticing your eyeing of his cup, he smirks. "If you want some, you'll have to ask Ghost. He's the one who made this coffee, if you're wondering."

"Oh? So the lieutenant has to make coffee for the captain?" you try hard to supress a smile.

Soap doesn't answer. He narrows his eyes and remains silent, as though he knows where the conversation is heading and decides not to let it go your way. You're quite disappointed he didn't continue the chat, for you were thinking of steering it off to the subject of Roach.

After having a few spoonfuls, you ask, "Have you heard of the ice-cream?"

"Aye," Soap says, almost ruefully, and then wags his head. "Whoever ordered them definitely wasn't one of my men, and Shepherd looked pissed about everything but didn't say a word when I asked."

You smile sympathetically as he added, "Anyway, if you're wondering where everybody is, they're training. Ghost is going all-out for the rest of the week 'cause of the possibility of the members putting on weight."

You couldn't help but laugh a bit at his last sentence. "They're members of the one-four-one. They should be able to pull through in one piece."

Soap chuckles. He leans forward and smiles at his coffee, before arching a brow at you. "By the way, a few members asked me last night for permission of having a party in the base. To celebrate the week. You don't have anything to do with it, do you?"

"What? No, I don't," you decline firmly, genuinely surprised. "A party, huh? Any details?"

"They want to have it tomorrow evening, in the rec-room," Soap informs, "This evening they're heading out of the base to get things for the 'celebration'."

"Oh, so you _do _approve of this?"

"It doesn't hurt for my men to get shitfaced drunk every once in a while," Soap chuckles again, but falls silent. He stares thoughtfully at his coffee, and then says, "No, I take that back. It _does _hurt for them to get shitfaced, they always end up doing something insane that puts my arse on the line with Shepherd."

"Uh, example?"

"We were celebrating my birthday," Soap starts, grimacing, "and, sadly, the celebration was bad timing. General Shepherd visited the base next morning without notifying me beforehand, so he walked in and found us asleep on the floor. Not only that, I think he found a few unconscious girls Meat invited in the meeting room."

"Ouch," you give him a doubtful look. "But you still don't mind having this party?"

"Events like those are rare, so why not?"

"They're lucky to have such a laidback captain," you laugh. Dipping the spoon in for another scoop, you only meet with the _clink _of glass and find that your bowl is empty. Frowning a bit, but unwilling to withdraw from the conversation, you look up. "Who asked you about the party?"

"Archer."

You pause, blink, and then look up at him. "_What?_"

Soap shrugs. "I'm just as confused as you are, Private. I thought he was going to come up with another 'Toad-told-me-to-do-it' excuse, but then he didn't. When I told him I'd think about it, Royce asked me next, which was strange since usually it would be Meat. And then Roach came along and inquired the same thing. I guess they were all in the idea of having the party."

"No wonder you approved," you whisper to yourself, a sly smile playing across your face. "_Roach _asked."

"What?" Soap asks, unable to catch your soft sentence.

"Oh, nothing," The sly smile changes into an innocent one. "Anyway, who's going out to get the things for the party?"

"Toad, Roach and Meat," Soap leans back against his seat, frowning a bit. "Ghost is tagging along, just to make sure they don't end up arrested. I think they'll be more than happy to have you follow."

"Sounds fun," you nod, rather fond of the idea, before rising from your seat. "Okay, I'm going to go watch them train."

Soap hums in acknowledgement and you slip out of the cafeteria.

Exiting the building, a soft breeze blows against your skin, the feeling refreshing as it brushes against your skin and hair. The sun is just poking out in the horizon, the sunlight slowly reaching across to beam over the base, whereas the peaceful morning atmosphere brings a sense of peace into your frame. It would have been comfortingly quiet, if only Ghost's voice wasn't so loud.

Walking in the direction of his angry-sounding yells, they lead to the course Soap showed you only yesterday afternoon. A number of members are there, but not all of them. You amble through the arch marking the entrance and stand next to Ghost, imitating the way his hands are locked together behind his back as he stood straight and glared at the men on the course.

"Oh come on! You call that _running, _Rocket?" Ghost snaps, and the poor member stumbles slightly, but quickly recovers and increases his pace.

You watch, slightly concerned. "You're quite hard on them, sir."

"Nothing they couldn't handle," Ghost states simply, folding his arms. "Especially after finishing up so much of that dessert, I can't risk having them add extra pounds."

"Where are the others? I see that not everyone is here."

"Shooting range, with MacTavish."

Upon hearing the captain's name, you raise an eyebrow and look at Ghost, perplexed. "MacTavish? I just met the captain two minutes ago in the cafeteria."

Ghost pauses for a few moments, and then turns to face you. Despite the shades, you can see the exasperation in his blue eyes. The irritation is even more evident when he sighs.

"Still drinking the bloody coffee?"

"Still drinking the bloody coffee," you smile. No wonder MacTavish was inside—slacking off on his session to take advantage of the rare quietness. "He said you made it for him."

"Yep, in exchange for Roach to train with me today," Ghost says, perhaps subconsciously, for that piece of information strikes you as peculiar.

"You guys fight for whom Roach trains with for the day?" you inquire, tone suspicious. You raise an eyebrow, but suppress a devious smile.

It's then Ghost's eyes widen, as though he realized the vital information that slipped past his mouth. He stammers, struggling to keep his voice collected though his nervousness is blatant to your ears. "Roach is just an easy chap to train."

"_Right,_" you drawl the word out slowly and skeptically, eventually deciding to not push the topic further. _'As if that reply even had anything to do with my query,' _you think to yourself, the smirk threatening to crack on your face. _'Ghost and Soap fighting over Roach? Interesting.'_

Suddenly the subject of their missions comes to mind. Perhaps the third world war has yet to happen. Glancing at Ghost from the corner of your eye, you feel compelled to ask whether any kind of massacre has gone about lately.

'_He'll think I'm a spy,' _you bite your bottom lip, agitated. In fact, almost anything you'd ask when it comes to their missions will make you look like suspicious.

Just as you were contemplating about sneaking into Soap's office and bedroom for files concerning official Task Force 141 covert ops, the seven men under Ghost's command for the day stumbled through the end of the course.

They're panting heavily, sweating as though they've run for miles, and Ghost nods a few times, slightly satisfied. Then, he barks orders for them to start doing push-ups. The look of agony on their faces as he told them to do so is priceless and you hold back a laugh, as to not torture them further.

The men drop to the floor in compliance to their superior's command. You aren't sure whether to giggle or frown at the look on their faces attempting to do the push-ups. Eventually, you decide on a sympathetic smile and turn to Ghost.

"How long have they been training?"

He lifts up his sleeve slightly and glances at his watch, answering casually. "About an hour and a half."

"G-Give…give me a break, sir!" Ozone pleads, panting. He forces another push-up. "My limbs are burning!"

"No."

"Shit," Worm curses, his elbows wobbling. "I promise I won't get fat—I won't go near the ice-cream ever again!"

Ghost remains unmoved.

"Come on, Ghost," you smile, attempting to coax him out of his strict ways for the sake of the exhausted members.

"Yeah, listen to the pretty Private!" Royce adds in hopefully.

Ghost doesn't reply. He looks at you, and though you can't see the expression underneath his mask, you can tell he's frowning. Remembering the nearly-full pot of warm chicken soup waiting in the cafeteria, and recalling how it struck you as odd, you remind the lieutenant:

"They haven't eaten breakfast yet, have they? How do you expect them to keep going like this without eating?"

Ghost argues, "They always train before eating breakfast."

"Only for half an hour!" Chemo cries and collapses, the backbreaking workout eventually getting the better of him. Panting, he mutters, "I feel like I'm going to die."

"Give them an hour, Ghost," you persuade, raising an eyebrow, lips smiling hopefully.

After a small staring contest, Ghost eventually gives in. He grunts, "Alright."

The seven men give out tired chuckles, before the remaining six collapses to the ground, mimicking Chemo. You laugh, whereas Ghost smirks underneath his mask and moves away to sit on a plastic chair nearby. Near this plastic chair is a long, bare table with a plastic bottle full of water at the end.

Two seconds are all it takes for them to stand up. You notice the fine sheet of sweat over their foreheads and necks, how their matching white T-shirts look so impossibly tight after such vigorous training, how their chests rise and fall as they breathe.

Your eyes especially stay glued to Roach. You don't even realize that your eyes are all over his torso and your lips are curved into a small smirk as he walks past you towards the table, with you turning in his direction to keep the gaze directed on the young sergeant. It isn't until you sense jealous, almost-murderous vibes coming from Ghost did you notice you're ogling.

Roach unscrews the cap on the plastic bottle and gingerly brings it to his mouth, tipping it over to drink some water. Despite the increased throbbing of your heart and slight burn in your cheeks as you watch him drink—throat moving as he swallowed, droplets running down his chin…_who _could bear to look away?—you notice, from the corner of your eyes, that Ghost is staring at Roach, too.

Roach wipes away the water dripping down his jaw and notices both of you looking at him. "What?" he arches a brow, confused, looking from you to his superior.

You flash him a small, innocent smile, whereas Ghost's expression is unreadable thanks to his mask. Slightly annoyed that you can't see his face (for you're sure he's probably giving Roach a dirty look—not the traditional one, but the look that implies "suggestive" things), you make a mental note to attempt and take off Ghost's balaclava at a later date.

Ozone must have noticed the small blush on your cheeks, for he grabs Roach's arm and whispers something to him, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he does so. Roach seems hesitant at first, but then his lips break into a grin matching Ozone's and they both glance at you. They don't leave you perplexed for long, though, for Roach suddenly reaches down and takes his tight-ass shirt off.

For him to go from looking hot to downright irresistable is nothing short of a pleasant surprise for you. Blood rushes to your cheeks, tinting your face perhaps seven shades of red, your eyes widen, your body stiffens, and your jaw drops—an involuntarily cry escaping your mouth in the process.

Suddenly, Roach and Ozone burst into laughter. Mortified, you curse and look away, bitterly gritting your teeth. They _wanted _to see you embarrassed that way! It _entertained _them to see you so bashful; to hear that fangirl squeal.

Since you (reluctantly?) looked away, you're now facing Ghost. His eyes are watching Roach, with a strange glint of approval. You can almost imagine a smug smirk on his face, and you wonder what's going through the lieutenant's mind…

'_Maybe he's thinking about how he's—' _you catch your mental narrative at that moment, heart rate increasing. Images of Ghost planting soft kisses all over Roach's chest and abdomen come to mind. Almost sure you're blushing madly, you feel like banging your face against a table.

"Sorry for that, Private," Roach laughs, pulling the shirt back on though your inner-self doesn't want him to do so. "Just thought you looked kind of cute when you're shy."

Unable to give a coherent reply, you grunt and wave it off.

"Anyway, I'm going out with Meat, Toad and Ghost to get some stuff for the party tomorrow," Roach looks at you inquiringly.

"Yeah, the captain already told me about it," you nod, "Do you mind if I come along?"

"Sure, no problem," he smiles. "We're going around one o'clock in the afternoon." With that, he turns and follows the other six soldiers towards the main building.

After spending about two minutes of silence, Ghost suddenly talks. His voice startles you, for you forgot that he's still there.

"So, how was your first day?"

"It was fun," you reply, locking gazes. "The members are friendly, and the whole day was relatively entertaining."

Humming thoughtfully, he asks, almost suspiciously. "Any of the members caught your eye?"

"You could say that." Again, you lips are threatening to crack a bashful smile.

"Who?"

'_Hmm, where to start? Let's see…Captain MacTavish, Roach, Archer, Toad—oh, did I mention you?' _Obviously, voicing out this thought isn't a good idea. With a small sigh, you give him a lopsided smile. "Does it matter, Ghost? It's bad enough that I get a feeling Seraph's watching every move I make…"

"Well, I saw you staring at Roach," Ghost says, removing his glasses and rubbing his thumb over the lens.

'_And I wasn't the only one staring, was I?' _you think, arching an unimpressed brow though the thought is kept to yourself. Suddenly, it hits you. Ghost probably suspects you're interested in Roach. Well, there's no denying _that—_but he's worried you're possible competition?

The thought makes you want to laugh. If Roach is involved with Ghost in any way, you definitely don't want to get caught in the middle of it.

"Don't worry, sir," you reassure, giggling slightly. "The only competition you'll have to deal with is MacTavish."

The answer startles Ghost. Without giving him a chance to say anything, you move towards the main building.

* * *

><p>The cafeteria is quickly becoming one of your favourite places of the base, especially when the members are there. This time, entering the said place is just fine as everybody is gathered around the many tables, chatting and joking and laughing.<p>

"Hey, Private!" Toad suddenly calls out, waving a hand. He's sitting with two other soldiers. Scarecrow is on his right, whereas Archer is opposite them. Toad pats the empty spot on his left. "Come sit down with us!"

You comply and settle down comfortably next to Toad. Since the three men are eating and you have nothing to do, you remove your phone from your pocket and discover there's a Wi-Fi signal available.

"Password?" you ask, tapping on what is obviously the Task Force 141's Wi-Fi.

"_141rox, _spelled with the numbers and _r-o-x_," Scarecrow informs.

You access the internet signal and begin surfing the web. The men stir up a conversation among themselves as you begin reading a work of fan-fiction. Of course, you know what fan-fiction does—you eventually feel yourself smiling and suppressing creepy grins as you follow the tale of romantic comedy.

"What're you reading?" Toad suddenly leans towards you, trying to get a good peek of your phone's screen.

Holding the device away, you wag your head. "I'm reading _something, _alright?"

"Well, you're blushing a bit," Scarecrow points out, smirking. "Let me guess- _erotica?_"

"What? No!"

"Geez, mate, give her a break," Archer gives Scarecrow a reprimanding look. "You've been bugging her about sexual things since yesterday."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Scarecrow's smirk widens. "Besides, I bet she'd hook up with me if she could."

A small giggle abruptly escapes your mouth. "_Me? _Get in bed with _you? _Keep dreaming, honey."

Toad laughs, whereas Archer chuckles. Scarecrow pretends to look offended. "Oh, come on! Don't deny that you've had at least a kind of fancy to get screwed by one of us!"

"Yeah, _one of you _being the keyword," you emphasize. "And _you, _my dear Scarecrow, are not one of those guys."

Suddenly, Toad flashes you a sneaky, seductive smirk. You freeze at the feeling of a hand crawling up your waist.

"Am _I _one of those guys, then?" he asks, whispering into your ear.

'_Oh shit—holy __**FUCK**__—'_

Your thoughts go into disarray again when you feel Toad's breath against your neck. As Scarecrow wails that Toad is being unfair, you sense another jealous, almost-murderous vibe—and then you realize it's emitting from Archer instead of Ghost this time.

Ignoring the strong urge to kiss Toad right then and there amid the fangirl adrenaline rush, you push his face away and giggle nervously. "_Yeah…_you know what, Christian? Stick to Archer."

Toad suddenly blushes. Archer's eyes widen slightly, but then returns to normal. You detect the smirk falling upon the sniper's lips as he takes another sip of his tea.

Your comment successfully shuts Toad up, who looks rather embarrassed, probably from memories of his intimate contact with his partner. He bites his bottom lip and turns back to his bowl, flinching a bit when Archer permits a deep, velvet-y chuckle to pass his lips.

Satisfied, you turn to the phone screen and continue to read.

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><p><strong>AN: **_So…I hope that wasn't as boring as I thought it was. I think the next one will turn out better._

_Anyway, leave a review! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_I'm sorry that I really took my time writing this *_* I wrote it, re-wrote it, frowned at it and then constantly turned away. Honestly, I was so unsatisfied with this chapter…but, for some reason, I feel really good about it after finishing this._

_**WARNING: **__This chapter hovers dangerously close to the M-rating. I tried to minimize as much F-bombs and sexual references as much as possible…oh, and this is very long. xD_

_Hope you'll all enjoy this as much as I did. It wasn't easy but the hard work pays off because I kind of like it. :)_

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><p>"Booze, baby!" Meat cries out triumphantly, holding up a bottle of whiskey in the air, one of the many alcoholic drinks they have purchased for the party. He put it gingerly in the cardboard box at the back of the truck.<p>

You watch with a small smile as Toad, Roach and Meat arrange the many bottles into the large box they brought along at the back of the pickup truck. The purpose of the said box is to hold all the bottles together on the ten-minute journey back to base. Besides the drinks, there's also quite a lot of food to bring back. Just from the supplies you can tell it will be one hell of a party.

"Thankfully, Meat's 'shove-everything-on-the-shelves-into-the-trolley' concept didn't exceed the budget," Ghost says, counting the bills in his hand. Satisfied, he inserts the money neatly into his wallet and tucks it into the pocket of his pants.

"Thankfully, we didn't get arrested," Roach rolls his eyes.

His remark elicits a small laugh from you and Toad, reminding everyone of what happened earlier. Ghost refused to remove his balaclava, despite being aware they were going into a public area. As a result, he made a few children cry, got questioned by the supermarket's security and even had his picture taken without his consent by fascinated teenagers. It took a whole hour before he agreed to remove the ridiculous thing.

"They're wankers for wanting to arrest me for what I want to wear," Ghost grumbles.

Toad smirks. "You think they'd just _let_ some masked guy walk into the store? It has a _skull _pattern at that."

"Let's not argue," Roach admonishes, before allowing a grin to form on his face. "If Ghost thinks there's no wrong in wearing that thing, then there's no use trying to change his mind. Besides, he wears it everywhere."

His last sentence especially piques your interest. "Even to _bed_?" you ask sharply.

Both Roach _and _Ghost stiffen, but their reactions are saved due to Meat's sudden interruption.

"Who cares about that? We have alcohol!" he beams, fitting the last few bottles into the arrangement. As he proceeds to lift the plastic bags of food into the truck, he pauses when he comes across a small paper bag. Peeking in, he ticks off the items inside. "Chocolate paste, honey, maple syrup," he gives you an inquiring look. "Interesting things, Private. Why'd you buy them?"

"I have my reasons," you answer with a sly smile. "Oh, wait—I'll need to go back inside and get something. I'll be right back."

"To get what?"

"Something from the hygiene section," you reply, turning around to re-enter the supermarket.

"Oh, the place with tampons and soap and toothbrushes?" Roach inquires. After receiving a nod as a reply, he offers, "I'll come with you, Private. I—uh, need to buy something, too."

"Alright, you two go ahead," Ghost nods, removing the vehicle's keys from his pocket as he approaches the driver's seat. "We'll be waiting here."

Roach follows you as you walk through the supermarket doors and head for the hygiene section in search of the lip-balm you mentioned to Roach the day before. Not that you're planning to buy one for _him—_no, you're just insulting his manhood if you do that—it's just that you want your lips to taste good for the party tomorrow.

For the first time, there's no guilty conscience following the dirty thought. Sure, it's against the rules to be romantic, but—booze, food, awesome party? You're positive _something _is bound to happen, and just in case you get wasted, you don't want your mouth to taste horrible. Better off buy something like the pineapple flavoured lip balm.

You and Roach separate once you've reached the said section. As he heads off down a different isle, you approach the area where the light make-up is usually sold. It takes only ten seconds for you to realize the desired product isn't sold there.

"Damn, guess I'll have to depend on the honey…" you say softly, disappointed. Oh well, there's no use doing anything now. You walk through the other isles and rows looking for Roach.

After passing a few rows, you spot him looking through small, bottled products in a certain isle. He doesn't see you coming, both because his back is facing you and his concentration is fully directed on the two bottles he's comparing in his hands.

Steathily, you sneak up on the young sergeant. He remains unaware and absolutely vulnerable to the childish scare you plan on giving him. When you're close enough, he replaces one of the small bottles back on the shelf before picking out another one, and because of his action, your eyes unintentionally catch a glimpse of what the product really is.

It takes a while for the item to register in your brain, but when it finally does, your body goes through the stage of surprise. Eyes widen, original objective forgotten, body paralyses with shock, the disbelief sets in…

Still finding it hard to believe what you see, and desperate for confirmation, you manage to choke out a question. "I-Is that _lube_?"

Roach jumps, surprised by the sudden closeness of voice, and that there's actually a person present behind him at all. He whirls around and takes a step back, path obstructed by the shelf. His green eyes display anxiety, and his hands with the bottles fly behind his back, as his face drains into a light pink colour.

"P-Private?" he stammers, the tone of his voice a mixture of hesitation, astonishment and anxiety.

"Roach—" you stop yourself at that moment to look at one of the bottles on the shelf. They have different colours. Mentally, you read the label on one of the bottles, which you suspect Roach took earlier. '_Blueberry-flavoured? What the__** fuck**__?'_

You stare at him, mouth agape and mind unable to grasp the situation. Is that sexual lubricant? "Why would you want to buy…"

Your voice trails off as everything snaps into place. You can only imagine the awkwardness and humiliation on Roach's part had you finished the question. There's only _one_ obvious answer, anyway. Oh, why _else _would he buy that thing?

Roach's face absorbs into a deeper shade. Though the subconscious mind demands you kiss him at that rare moment of opportunity, you conscious side doesn't comply and remains still, thoughts scrambled from the _possibilities._

Had you been some other girl unaccustomed to the nature of boys banging on boys, you wouldn't have recovered from the confusion so early, nor would you have taken it so calmly. Fortunately for him, you aren't one of those girls. The perplexity washes away quickly and a mischievous smile finds its way on your face.

"Ghost or MacTavish?"

The question catches Roach off guard. "What?"

You maintain eye contact for a few seconds before a laugh escapes your lips. "You know what? I don't wanna know."

"Wait, what did you ask me?" Roach asks a second time, his lips twitching into an incredulous, surprised, half-smile. "Ghost or MacTavish?"

"I said you don't have to answer that—I might have dreams of it when I sleep," you smirk and wave it off, adding in a fake shudder to go with the sentence. "I won't tell anybody. Go ahead and buy whatever you're going to buy…and I'll see you at the truck."

* * *

><p>The rest of the day is pretty uneventful, mainly because you pay little attention to the surroundings as your mind is occupied with dirty thoughts of Roach. Night falls sooner than expected, and you opt to pass the day just washing your face and hair instead of taking a bath, unwilling to risk being walked in on again.<p>

The dream following the deep slumber is certainly unexpected. Roach choosing whether to pick the lieutenant or the captain. And then he ends up picking both…

Let us skip the dream.

The next morning, the whole base is empty as everybody is out training, and the moment is perfect for a refreshing shower. Fortunately, nobody walks in on the rapid, cautious five-minute bath. After a quick breakfast, you return to your quarters to lock yourself up and wait until evening for the party.

It was hard choosing an outfit for the event, particularly because you didn't know what it would be like. You've never watched a show or movie where a party is held on a military base. With a sigh, you throw on a short-sleeved, knee-length silver dress.

The small paper bag filled with the three items you bought from the supermarket yesterday is resting nealy on the end table next to bed. Taking out the small bottle containing honey, you move towards the mirror and squeeze a small amount on your finger. Gingerly, the honey is dabbed over your lips, giving them a glossy, puckered appearance.

Pleased that the honey presented a much better look than expected, you take a few moments to stare at yourself in the mirror. Before long, there's a knock on your door.

"Private? Party's about to start, you joining?"

It's Soap, you can tell by the voice. Flashbacks of what you saw in your dream the previous night appear in your head, forcing a slight blush to tint your cheeks. Shaking the thoughts away, putting the honey back, and folding the paper bag into your hands, you turn and smile at the door. "Of course. I'll be out in a second."

The door swings inwards as you pull it open. Soap doesn't look any different from any other day—not as in he looks boring, he's still an irresistable Mohawk-sporting hunk—it's just his clothes which are the same. Dark T-shirt and cargo pants, but his face remains as fresh as ever. Perfectly styled hair, attractive face and sexy scar trailing along the eye…

His lips curve upwards into a small smirk. "Nice dress, Private," he compliments, taking a step back so you can exit. "Plan on hooking up with somebody tonight?"

You roll your eyes with a smile, not answering his question. The captain leads you to the rec-room, and though you expected it to be brightly-lit with the men crowding the Xbox console, you're completely blown away by the transformation.

It's dark and dimly-lit. The lights were any other colour besides yellow or white. Cyan, magenta, purple, green— it looks as though they replaced the normal bulbs with special ones, but the illumination is not flashing, nor is there a disco ball. The speakers around the room, usually used to ease announcement or warning, are connected to a small station by the side. All kinds of foods, indistinguishable due to the severe lack of light, lined up one side of the room. Another table played host to the many bottles of alcohol purchased yesterday.

The sofa is pushed up against the wall, whereas a few round tables with several chairs occupied the middle of the room. Astonished, a wide smile plays on your face as you walk into the room.

"Whoa," is all you manage to say.

Somebody whistles at you flirtatiously. Worm is sitting next to Ghost, who is focused on the laptop connected to the speakers. Having successfully caught your attention, he throws you a wink. "Looking _good, _girl!"

"I second that," Archer agrees, the amused smirk on his face enough to take your breath away, especially with how his eyes scan you up and down. He notices the paper bag in your hands. "Have a contribution to the party?"

"Yeah…" you reply with a small smile, moving to the table with foods. You remove the jar of chocolate paste and bottles of honey and maple syrup from the bag and onto the table.

"Oi! When is this party going to start?" Roach wails at the lieutenant from across the room. He's slumped lazily between Royce and Chemo on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Ghost looks up from the screen, his balaclava making him look eerie, both from the magenta lighting and dim glow from the laptop shining against his face. "Everybody's here, am I right? So what's with the delay? Start the party already!"

A small uproar of approval comes from the crowd of men in the room as Ghost manages to add, "And get me a glass of that awful whiskey Roach gave me last time!"

Chemo calls out, "If it's awful, why'd you want to drink it?"

Ghost snorts, "So I can tell you how horrible it is again."

"One bottle of awful American whiskey, coming right up!" Toad allows a stupid grin across his face as he jumps from his spot at the round table and rushes to the table of alcohol. Claiming a large bottle of American whiskey, he pours the contents out into a few glasses. He takes a good swig and shudders. "_Woo_! As American as it can get!"

Roach laughs at his remark, claiming one of the glasses the said whiskey was poured into, before draining all of its contents in one go. As Toad delivers one glass to Ghost, Roach blinks and takes a few moments to appreciate the taste. "Hell yeah, baby!"

Before long, the number of bottles originally on the table decreases to about half, as the other half is distributed throughout the room. Some of alcohol is poured and shared equally into glasses, whereas other members (Toad and Meat, particularly) declare whole bottles for themselves. Either way, everybody ends up with one glass (or a whole bottle) of alcohol in their hands. Well, everyone, except you.

"What are you doing on that bloody laptop?" Royce asks Ghost, leaning into Worm as he is situated directly next to the lieutenant.

Worm leans away in disgust. "Dude, get off of me! Your breath _stinks!_"

"Blame the booze, dude!"

"Oh wait, I get it. I know what Ghost is doing," Ozone chimes in from his place in the center of the room. As their attention redirects on him, he takes another swig of tequila. Pointing an accusing finger and stupid smile plastered on his face, he cries out, "He's watching _porn!_"

Another small uproar erupts as a result of the accusation, and Ghost snaps, annoyed. "Shut it, you bastards! I'm not watching porn. Bloody hell, even if I was, I wouldn't be watching it _here _of all places."

Scarecrow jerks back, an overly-dramatic and childish gasp escaping his mouth. "_Ooh! _Ghost just admittedto having brought pornography into the base!"

"Heard that, captain?" Toad asks with a cheeky grin.

"Sure did," Soap replies calmly, a relaxed smile on his face as he drains the last of the beer in his large glass. Pouring some more, he raises it into the air and suggests, "So—are we going to play a game or what?"

At that moment, loud music erupts from the speakers, successfully giving almost everyone a heart attack. Everybody paralyses for a while as the music plays, catchy beats fitting with their situation making its way to their ears and interests.

"Finally!" Ghost cries out triumphantly.

Oh, so he was trying to get the music to play through the speakers that whole time. No wonder it took quite a while.

However, his moment of victory flattens when Worm whines, "What the _fuck _am I listening to? Gangnam Style is _overrated, _man! There's got to be some better beats on that thing."

The next song that plays is Bad Romance.

Ozone bursts in laughter. "I didn't know you had such a _classy _taste for music, Ghost!"

A grim smile plays on Archer's face as he raises his glass of liquor. "Well, it's better than the earlier song, mate," he states, before bringing the glass to his mouth.

You're sitting on a single armchair near the long tables of food, watching as the members get drunker with each passing second. There's no use preventing that wide grin or delighted giggles at every witty remark or silly, childish antic they make. It's as though they've somehow forgotten you're there—and that's quite a priviledge. You get to see the men of the one-four-one wasted and drunk into oblivion.

"Hey, Captain," Rocket calls from the small round table at the center of the room. "Arm wrestle?"

Royce, dizzy from the booze (and still leaning against Worm), laughs, but stops short when a hiccup comes out of nowhere. "Oh dude, are you crazy? Nobody can beat the captain in arm wrestling." – (_hiccup_)— "And I mean _nobody."_

"Hey, if the hopeless numpty wants to try, let him try," Soap grins foolishly, heavily slumping into the chair opposite Rocket. Slamming his empty beer glass onto the small circular space, which is already hosting one large, empty bottle and two vacant glasses, he leans forward and clumsily puts an elbow on the table.

As a result from the heave of his arm, the said bottle and glasses crash to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces on the floor. The sound of breaking glass doesn't bother anybody, surprisingly—nobody even flinched—and Rocket slurs incoherently before putting his own arm on the table.

The room watches with interest as Soap easily beats Rocket, marking his failure by a loud slam as he pushes the latter's arm down against the table. As Rocket curses in pain, and as a victorious and drunken grin settles on his face, Soap reaches out to get his glass—and then realizes it's in tiny pieces at his feet.

"Loser goes and gets more beer for the winner," Soap says, not disturbed at all by the glass, smugness evident in his voice.

Rocket groans and heavily lifts himself from the table, boots crunching against the pieces on the floor. He staggers and takes a few minutes, due to both tripping on the member's feet and the disorientation caused by the alcohol. The dimness of the room doesn't help either. He collides with the table of booze, not before catching one bottle which nearly falls off.

Suddenly, another song plays on the speakers. Hip-hop…

"Hell yeah! This is my jam, bros!" Meat suddenly shouts, jumping from the couch and bottle raised up high. He drinks vigorously—probably to finish it off, and shudders violently. With a cheer, he gives the empty bottle to a drunken Toad and wobbles to the middle of the room, heavily knocking into the circular tables on his way.

Since Soap is occupying one of these said tables, he trips from his chair and would have fallen to the floor of sharp glass, had it not been for his quick recovery. Well, not much of a recovery—he manages to delay his fall and ends up falling into Archer and Ozone, who are sitting on the smaller couch next to the three-seater sofa.

The sudden weight of their captain causes both Archer and Ozone to groan, but it takes some effort to push the drunken captain off of them. Soap ends up lying at their feet, grunting, but not moving from the comfortable spot on the floor.

"Will anybody be brazen enough as to challenge me as I prepare to move in harmony with such an enchanting rhythm?" Meat suddenly asks the room in an exagerrated British accent. His hilarious choice of words makes you laugh out loud, too.

Roach (with much difficulty, and some help from Chemo) gets to his feet and stumbles his way to where Meat is standing. He bumps into him, which sends them both a few steps back and knocks over a chair in the process. Clamping a hand on Meat's shoulders, Roach slurs, "I hear you're looking for a competitor?"

"Hey, careful guys," Ghost warns, though his voice hints he's getting a bit drunk, too. Wait, since when did he remove his balaclava? "There's glass on the bloody floor. The last thing we need is one of you idiotic wankers falling and having shards of glass in the cheeks of your arse."

"You'd be more than happy to pull 'em out of _Roach's _arse, wouldn't you, Riley?" Soap inquires, slightly lifting his head up from the floor. His voice, despite almost incoherent, holds traces of suspicion.

The suggestive question goes unnoticed by the drunken members of the one-four-one, who are completely oblivious to Roach's relationship with his two superiors. Amused by how the members paid no attention to Soap's inquiry, you watch Ghost's reaction. He simply grunts and chugs down the liquid in his glass.

Suddenly, Roach and Meat begin to shuffle. Their sudden dancing startles and pleases the crowd in the room, and before long, the members cheer on as the two move side by side in what happens to be a very impressing dancing cue. Their synchronization with the music contrasts their wasted state, and astonishes you to the point your start laughing and clapping.

As the song ends, Meat and Roach share a friendly hug before stumbling back together to the sofa. You watch as they both try out glasses of tequila, different from the whiskey they've been drinking since the party started.

"Oh man! Nobody's been touching the food?" Worm ejaculates, voice almost offended. You see his vague figure bending over the bowl of cheese cream. Strange, you didn't see him stagger across the room.

"Who wants to eat when we have _booze~_" Royce croons, obviously wasted.

Without warning, Worm grabs the whole bowl of cheese cream and pours it over the first person he sees. In this case, it's Scarecrow, who was sitting innocently on the floor enjoying his drink until the cheese cream is whipped onto his face.

Worm throws his head back and laughs out loud, stumbling back and knocking over a few plastic plates from the table onto the floor. Cursing, Scarecrow wipes the cream from his eyes and takes a handful of potato chips. When he throws them in Worm's direction, it marks the start of a messy food fight.

In an instant, food is flying across the room in all directions. Even those who can be considered 'innocent' (Soap, for example) gets dragged in anyway. You're completely safe from your little corner, watching as all hell breaks loose and trying hard to hold in the laugh.

"No, no! YOU STAINED MY BALACLAVA WITH SOUR CREAM YOU BLOODY SHITE!"

"Oh shit! Ghost! Wasn't me, sir, I swear! I was aiming for Royce and—"

Royce, watching them like a child who blamed the broken vase on the cat, screams, "Run, bitch! _Ruuunnn!"_

Rocket's vague figure stumbles to the exit and disappears at the turn, whereas Ghost trips numerous times in the pursuit, the words leaving his mouth unintelligible thanks to his slurring, thick accent. The only words distinguishable are the F-bombs which echo throughout the empty hallways as he follows the other soldier out of the rec-room.

"Oh dude! What the hell did you just pour on me?"

The rush of arenaline in the messy fight somehow sobers a majority of the members in terms of speech.

"Try and guess!"

"Yeah right, for all I know it could be from your dick!"

"Oh dude, two things: I'm not _that _mean, and you sound used to what semen feels like!" A roar of laughter. "I think that's maple syrup I poured on you, though."

Ah. So somebody has put your contribution to good use.

"It's _sticky, _man! Going to take _forever _to get out of my hair! Fuck you, Toad."

"Love you too, Chemo."

Suddenly, Ozone lurches forward, and his hand flies to his mouth. With the urge to throw up slowly overpowering him, he runs to the bin.

The bin isn't very far from you, and since it's made of metal and basically empty, the sounds of him gagging and vomiting aren't so pleasant to your ears, even with the music on. Slightly disgusted, you rise from your seat, dodge the flying foods and approach Archer, who is taking a break from the fight. He's sipping on liquor and you occupy the space beside him, which was owned by Ozone before the food fight broke out.

Archer's face is red and his blue eyes are cloudy. A smirk plays across your face as he squints at you.

"Private? I forgot you were here," he returns the smirk, taking another sip. "Enjoying yourself?"

"You have no idea."

At that moment, Toad hobbles towards you, only to fall on his face as his foot gets caught with the leg of a table. Both you and Archer watch blankly as he remains on the floor for five seconds before struggling to get up. Eventually, he falls forward and on top of you.

Surprised, you raise your hands defensively and automatically, catching the drunk just enough to prevent him crashing into you at full-force. Toad's a pathetic mess in your arms, slurring and mumbling and hands stained with all kinds of foods.

"You smell like gravy," you bluntly remark, frowning. He's, naturally, a heavy person to support, considering he's a guy and you're female. If he doesn't get off of you in the next few seconds, you won't have enough energy to hold him up, and he'll end up falling face-first into...well…your chest. Archer wouldn't like that, would he?

"What is it, Chris?" Archer asks, setting his glass down to pull Toad off of you. Much to your relief.

"No flirting with Private!" Toad reprimands softly, voice hinting jealousy.

The spotter leans into Archer and snuggles his face in the other's neck. You consider it a drunk response, but when Toad begins to kiss him below the jaw, you eyes widen and you begin to gawk.

Archer (who apparently enjoys it), despite slightly wasted, realizes what is happening. His eyes widen and he pushes Toad off.

"What the hell, man," he murmurs lazily. "Not now."

Toad groans in disappointment and remains slumped between you and Archer. Both of them have their eyes closed, but Archer looks more as though he's dealing with a headache. Toad looks as though he's fallen asleep somehow, amid the shouts and yells and music.

Looking away from the duo, you spot Roach directly ahead of you. He's some distance away, kneeling on the floor next to Soap, who is leaning against the wall with his face smudged in something white. The captain's hand is in Roach's hand, and you can see Soap's fingers are covered with a brown substance.

Roach and Soap are talking to each other, safe from the substances flying overhead. The sergeant is gently rubbing circles over Soap's chocolate-smudged knuckles, smiling sweetly and looking down as he talks. After a few moments of observing, you realize they're flirting, not talking.

'_Ooh, Roach,' _you think to yourself, smirking. _'Seducing a wasted MacTavish, eh? Probably seizing the opportunity since Ghost isn't in the room…'_

Roach lifts Soap's hands and suddenly sticks three of the fingers in his mouth.

Jaw dropping, your heart throbs so much it feels as though it would pound its way out of your chest. Soap's face is pleasantly flushed, watching Roach with a glint of desire. Mantaining a heaty moment of eye contact. Roach is probably wiping Soap's fingers clean off with that tongue…

You didn't drink anything, but you're sure your face is as red as a drunk's. Much to your dismay, somebody suddenly stands in front of you and blocks off your view. Excitement and desperation building up inside, you look up, exasperated, at whoever it is obstucting your view.

Before you can identify him, the tall soldier topples over and lands into you, sandwiching you between his body and the sofa. His breath is against your neck. You can feel his heart beating. Your mind is all over the place—

"Roach?" the stranger asks weakly. He's panting, as though he's run for miles. He smells like whiskey. And that accent...

"Ghost?" you say, bewildered. Since when did he return? More importantly, did he just think you're Roach? Man, he must be really wasted.

"Bug…" Ghost murmurs. Even in the dark you can see the murkiness in his usually piercing eyes.

Knowing his vulnerable condition, you attempt to explain calmly. "Look, Ghost…I'm not—"

Before you can finish the sentence, he presses his lips against yours. You can taste the whiskey in his mouth.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I ain't fangirlin'…who said I was fangirling? *w* I think I got drunk just thinking about kissing Ghost. Da-yum._

_Review? :D_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _Thanks to everyone for the reviews! I just can't say how happy I am to receive all of your feedback ;A;_

_Not much happening in this one, but I still think it's fun to write and read. I went through the draft again to check for errors, so if there's any I've overlooked, please excuse them xD Enjoy~_

* * *

><p>Something bright and warm is glaring into your closed eyes, forcibly bringing you out of a comfortable sleep. Even before you lift your eyelids open, you can tell it's just sunlight conveniently focusing on your face, and a dull, throbbing pain pounds the back of your skull. Despite having just awakened, there's no energy in your body to move your aching limbs.<p>

Ignoring the immense headache, you suppress a grunt and open your eyes, not moving any other muscle. You're lying on your side, back facing the wall, on the lower mattress of a bunker. You're face is just inches from the edge, and if you had rolled over, you would have fallen painfully to the floor. Looking around, you find another bunker opposite you. The lower mattress, too, is occupied.

Roach is sleeping soundly across from you, his arm dangling off the bed, his face half-buried in the pillow and back facing upwards. Brown-tinted blond hair in disarray, expression serene, covers drawn up to the waist…and shirtless. That, and there's an arm draped around his neck, as though there's somebody else cuddling him on the inner part of the bunker, between the wall and Roach, but isn't visible from your angle.

'_Is that Soap's arm?' _you ask yourself, eyes widening. Wait, if that really _is _Soap's arm, and that they really had _you-know-what _last night, what the _hell _are _you_ doing in the same room? If you remember correctly, you were making out with Ghost, who was drunk into oblivion.

There's a little mark on Roach's shoulder, which suspiciously looks like a hickey. Your heart rate increases as you look around the room once more. This looks like one of the soldiers' many bunker rooms.

Biting your bottom lip, you decide it's best to get up and leave before Roach and Soap wake up. Inhaling deeply, and channelling what little energy you have into your hands, you attempt to sit up—that is, until, you realize there's an arm draped lazily over your hip.

A blazing heat rushes up to your cheeks. Well, shit. There's somebody on the inner part of the bed, between you and the wall, and since you're facing away you didn't realize there's somebody with you on the same mattress in the first place. Braving to look down, the arm is muscular and strong, a bit tanned…

Biting the insides of your cheeks, you're not sure whether to be relieved, incredulous or disappointed that you're still in the silver dress from the night before, serving as proof that nothing suspicious happened between you and the members.

Shrugging that fact off, you mind races as to who it is cuddling you. It's not like you pay much attention to the soldiers' arms, anyway. Maybe when they're training, but not always. As a fangirl, you mostly stare at their handsome faces and drool when they're not looking.

Maybe it's Ghost. The option is plausible, considering there was a lip-locking session between you two last night.

'_I'm still gonna have to wake up either way,' _you think to yourself. You still have to slip out or undesirable events may happen.

Slowly and patiently, you move your feet to the floor and rise from the comfortable lying position. As you do, the arm falls from your hip and grazes over your thigh, before finally falling behind you as you successfully sit up. Breathing an inaudible sigh of relief, you glance at the door. Naturally, it's closed and locked.

Now that you're sitting up, you can see who it is snuggling Roach. To your surprise, it isn't Soap. Pale skin, dark hair, tall and slender frame, long legs hidden underneath the covers—that's _Ghost _sleeping next to the sergeant.

Then…who is sleeping beside you?

Gradually and hesitantly, you glance over your shoulder, unsure who to expect. You can feel the breath leaving your lungs when you find _Soap _sleeping contentedly, his Mohawk a mess on his head, and the captain himself almost naked if it weren't for the dark boxers, which is the only thing he's wearing. Strewn about his collarbone and neck are a few hickeys.

Instead of rushing to the door as you originally planned, you lean forward and wipe your face several times. How and when did you end up here? How did you and Roach switch 'partners'? More importantly, why is Soap in his boxers? If Roach is naked (you can't tell since the covers are blocking the rest of his body) then why is Ghost next to him when it seems that he and Soap were in the process of jumping each other's bones?

Memories from last night are too vague for you to pull the pieces together. In the end, you give up thinking, and conclude that investigating the rest of the base should provide answers. You get to your feet. The dizziness affects your walking, and you use the furniture and walls as support as you stagger to the door.

Unlocking it, you stumble out into the hallway and lean against the wall, fumbling around for the knobs leading to other members' bedrooms. Throwing each door open, you discover them all to be empty, with an exception of one. In the furthest room, Rocket is sprawled out on the floor in an awkward position, as though he had wrestled with somebody and lost. Remembering that he probably got his ass kicked by the lieutenant, you leave the unconscious soldier on the floor and make your way to the rec-room.

Ah yes, the recreation room. As you make a turn to where the open arch leading to the said room is situated, you can hear the faint murmur of music and see the dim glow of multi-coloured lights. Somebody is unconscious by the entrance, his legs clumsily sticking outside the room. You squint once you arrive, the rainbow of colours adding to the terrible headache.

"Shake it off~" somebody croons, voice cracking and slurring, singing along to the song by Taylor Swift. Then, the same voice curses, "Damn, if I can shake this fucking hangover off…"

Unlike last night, the music is set at a comfortable and low volume. At the end of the room, you can see Meat with his face against the keyboard. He's holding on stubbornly to what looks like an empty glass.

Ozone, Scarecrow, Chemo, Worm and Royce are lying about in awkward and hilarious positions all about the room. Speaking of the room, it's a total mess. There's food whipped across the walls and clinging onto the ceiling.

As Meat groans and deals with his hangover, you wonder where Archer and Toad are. Neither of the snipers is in the rec-room, and you've already checked all of the members' quarters. There are a few possibilities: they're either training, which is unlikely, or they're bathing, which would be very strange of them to do. Or, they could be in the cafeteria.

Less than two minutes later, you arrive at the said area. Sunlight seeping in from the high windows illuminates the large room. True enough, Archer and Toad are there.

What they're doing, however, makes you wonder whether you're hallucinating.

The two snipers are making good use of one of the tables. Toad's on his back, legs wrapped around the hips of Archer, who is currently pinning him down against the table with his hands in his spotter's hair. Their lips are connected in what appears to be an aggressive make-out session. Both are still in clothes, but it seems like that's about to change, given their suggestive position and heaty, passionate kiss.

That, and how Archer's hands are trailing along the buttons of Toad's shirt.

You remain there, paralyzed for a moment. Getting laid on a table…if you caught Ghost and Roach, that _may _be understandable, but _Archer and Toad? _They must have forgotten they're getting intimate at a place where anybody can walk in at any time.

As much as you'd love to remain unnoticed, watch them have _*cough cough* _and maybe die of nosebleed, you snap, "Hey! Cut it out!"

The sudden exclamation startles both of them. Archer somehow falls off the side of the table and lands painfully on the tiled floor, whereas Toad freezes, his face flushing. He turns and looks at you, his eyes portraying a kind of innocent shock, though there's nothing innocent about his swollen lips, rustled hair and lone hickey barely hidden by the open collar of his shirt.

Archer curses and grabs on to the table and chairs to get up to his feet. He wobbles, probably hungover, and looks up at you. You've never seen him so embarrassed in his life. In fact, you never thought that the stoic, always strict-to-business Archer is capable of getting embarrassed. Or…aroused, for that matter.

"How long have you been standing there?" Toad asks, swallowing.

"Long enough to guess what _that_" you wave your arms around, "was leading to."

Both men steal glances at each other. However, since they both did it at the same time, they make eye contact and end up averting their gazes and blushing twice as hard. A giggle involuntarily escapes your lips at their awkwardness.

"Do you know what time it is?" Archer mumbles, still mortified.

You turn around to look at the clock above the entrance of the cafeteria. "It's half past eleven in the morning. The rest of the members are either unconscious or too hungover to move."

"Oh," Archer hums, slumping down into a seat, at the same table Toad is still lying on. As he does this, Toad sits up and groans before getting off the table and settling on the floor.

"What should I do?" you ask.

Archer waves a hand, resting his head against the cold surface. "Nothing."

* * *

><p>You stay in the cafeteria and watch as the duo fall asleep. After smiling at how adorable it is to watch the two, you end up cooking your own breakfast and making you own coffee, idly mulling over what could have taken place last night and pondering over other matters. The base is strangely quiet, other than murmur of songs from the rec-room not so far away.<p>

After spending an hour at the cafeteria, you take a rejuvenating and cleansing shower and throw on a new, cleaner outfit. It must have already been another hour and a half by the time you're finished gussying up.

It's already two o'clock. It's already Day 4. Wow…time flies by so fast when you're with the one-four-one.

You return to the room where Soap, Roach and Ghost are at. Without knocking, you push the door open and peek in, only to find Soap glaring irritably at Ghost, who has a wide grin on his face and a blushing, flustered Roach trapped in the lieutenant's embrace from behind. If you didn't know any better, you just walked in on one of Ghost's and Soap's possessive fights over the sergeant.

"Don't say a word," you raise a hand, expression neutral, as all three pairs of eyes fall on you with fear and surprise.

They remain silent, still looking a bit apprehensive and shocked, as you continue, "I don't want to comment on…_this," _you wave your arms around again. _ "_It's two in the afternoon and you're the only people who appear to have already recovered from the hangover."

"_Two in the afternoon_?" Soap repeats, eyes widening in a look of disbelief.

"Rec-rooms a mess," you shrug. "It's going to take forever to clean up."

"Fuck," Roach curses, throwing his head back, inadvertently leaning deeper against Ghost. All three don't seem to care at that moment.

"Bloody fucking hell," Ghost groans, gently pushing Roach aside. "I'm still going to have to be the one who's going to get those wankers up on their feet to clean the place up."

As he scoots out of the covers to get to his feet, you're surprised he still has his boxers on. Which means he _didn't _do _that _with Roach? Maybe Roach still has his boxers on, too.

Urgh, whatever. It's too much to think about now.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, you're in the cafeteria with Soap, sipping soundly on a warm cup of plain water as the groans and complaints from the members are faintly heard from the rec-room. Throughout those couple of hours, nobody disturbed you or asked for your help, which is natural considering you're a 'visitor'.<p>

The captain ambled in five minutes ago, looking tired and irritated. After a few moments of silence between you two, he sighs, "Right now, Ozone and Worm are trying everything in their power to get some _thing_ off the ceiling. Whatever it is, it's white, sticky and creamy…and smells like shite. I don't think I can spend another moment in that room without feeling nauseous."

You giggle, setting the glass down gently. "So, remember much from last night?"

"Not really," Soap murmurs, lacing his hands together. "Only up to the point I was laying on the floor and somebody spilled honey on my face."

After a small hum of acknowledgement, you take another sip of the plain water. Soap looks a bit nervous and restless. Noticing his condition, you arch a brow. "What's wrong with you?"

He coughs. "Er, you saw me with Ghost and Roach earlier…I know it's pretty compromising but—you must have some sort of idea that we're queer—"

You wait patiently for him to finish his stammers, expression neutral the whole time. Eventually, his sputters trail off, the look on his face indicating he didn't quite know how to put his question into words.

With a small sigh and smile, you wag your head. "I'm not disturbed, if that's what you're thinking," you assure him. "And I won't tell anybody. Though I personally think the other members wouldn't really care."

Soap looks relieved, and your reassuring smile breaks into a mischievous grin. "Besides, I think you and Roach are really cute together."

A very faint blush creeps up to the captain's cheeks. "Uh…"

"Or maybe Ghost and Roach? I don't know," you tease, purposely intending to agitate him. "I personally think Roach's cuter with Ghost. But, then again, it's hard to choose."

Soap narrows his eyes at you. "What are you trying to get at, Private?"

"Nothing," you shrug innocently.

At that moment, Ghost walks into the cafeteria, announcing his arrival with an incoherent curse and exasperated sigh. Soap, in response to the other's presence, rises from his seat and walks out of the room. Ghost replaces the captain's spot opposite you.

His sunglasses are missing, which would be normal considering it would only pain his eyes in a room with rainbow-coloured bulbs. As he sits down, he pulls his balaclava off and massages the bridge of his sharp-angled nose.

"It's not like General Shepherd will be visiting the base any time soon," you smile sympathetically. "Don't stress yourself—or them—out."

Ghost doesn't reply. He takes a few deep breaths as though to calm and pull himself together.

At that moment, you ask, "So, do you remember anything from last night?"

"Specifically?"

"Well…maybe, after you beat the shit out of Rocket and staggered back to the rec-room?" you bite the insides of your cheeks, wondering whether the lieutenant _does _remember kissing you.

Ghost takes a few moments to think. "Only fragments. I was dragging somebody with me when I saw the captain and Roach walk out of the recreation room. I remember seeing Roach leading the captain into his room, then I waited about ten minutes before storming in. Maybe I was with somebody when I kicked the door open, but I don't really remember. And then I pulled Roach away—by then he already had his shirt off—and I pushed him on the bed…"

His look of concentration slowly melts into that of smugness, and a dream-like smirk plays across his face at the memories of successfully snatching the sergeant away from Soap. A small blush tints your cheeks, mind constructing what could have happened, and then Ghost suddenly snaps out of his reverie, immediately realizing that he divulged too much information that he should.

"Well, anyway," he starts, averting eye contact, slightly embarrassed, "why do you ask?"

"Just trying to stir a conversation," you lie, staring blankly at the now half-empty cup. Oh, so he _doesn't _remember accidentally kissing you, mistakening you for Roach. In fact, none of the three men seem to remember you being with them during the 'affair' in the first place. Best keep it that way.

Silence settles between you for a few minutes as you struggle to think of a subject for conversation. "You know that Roach is also in a relationship with MacTavish, right?"

You didn't know what drove you to ask such a private and maybe sensitive question, but you just had to know. Ghost doesn't seem surprised by the answer, but he stiffens for a split second before replying.

"Aye, of course," he shrugs. "I don't know how to explain it. I do get jealous of MacTavish sometimes because Roach seems fonder of him than me. But I don't get enraged or anything of that sort."

"Huh…what about you and MacTavish?"

Ghost arches a brow. "What?"

"Is there anything going on between you and the captain?" you try again, barely suppressing the coy smile on your face. You lean forward and waggle your eyebrows. "Romantically, that is."

"What?" Ghost stares at you incredulously. "No!"

Doubtfully, you fold your arms and lean back against the chair. "Are you sure?"

Ghost rolls his intensely blue eyes. "Look, Private, I know you're a girl. Girls can take men like us two ways—either they're disgusted, or they go crazy because it's 'cute'. You seem to be the latter."

"True…" you murmur, urging him to continue.

"I don't have any romantic interest in the captain," Ghost says defiantly, the confidence in his thickly accented voice obvious. "The only person I love is Roach."

For a second there, you aren't sure whether you heard that correctly. Did _Ghost—_the stoic, clinically insane and sometimes sadistic Simon Riley—just admit that he genuinely has feelings for _Roach? _The information takes its time to process through your mind, and as the significance of Ghost's confession begins to sink in, the lieutenant himself begins to blush, as though realizing what he just said. The sight of his pale cheeks tinting pink just adds to your disbelief. First, he confesses, now he's blushing? That's very uncharacteristic of him.

Unsure how to respond, you cough. "So…erm, is Roach anybody's partner?"

"No," Ghost replies, before his own eyes widen as though he just realized what it means.

"Make it official, then," you arch a brow. "If you make Roach yours, MacTavish can't touch him anymore."

"It's not that easy," Ghost grimaces. "Roach can't belong to anybody, as much as I would like to make him mine. Besides, I don't think he'll agree to commitment…"

"I think he's torn between you and MacTavish," you offer your honest opinion, throwing in a wink. "He genuinely likes both of you. And what the hell are you talking about—commitment? You're just going to ask him to go steady, not marry him, _geez!_"

Ghost doesn't reply, instead he groans. "I wish somebody would come and sweep MacTavish off his feet so I could have Roach for myself."

"Ooh, getting soft, are you?"

The lieutenant glares daggers at you, and you would have cringed if it weren't for the light-hearted, fuzzy-feeling conversation.

"Where are Archer and Toad?" you ask.

"Cleaning, of course," Ghost replies, and you stand up to leave for the rec-room.

* * *

><p>By the time you've reached there, all the lights have returned to glowing good, white beams. Some members are scrubbing the walls, others are on the floor. Ozone and Worm are fumbling with ladders trying to remove some sort of substance from the ceiling, and everybody looks as though they're silently praying they wouldn't get hit by that sticky white thing on the ceiling. A giggle makes its way pass your lips at the sight of soldiers cleaning like servants.<p>

Spotting Archer trying to arrange the mass of wires at one corner of the room, you decide to go and help him. Kneeling next to him, you aid the sniper in distangling the dizzying amount of wires. Toad is at the other end of the room, scraping something off the wall.

"Thanks," Archer says appreciatively. You hum in reply, and he says awkwardly. "You don't seem disturbed with what you saw this morning."

A smirk crosses your face. "I was actually contemplating whether I should have just remained unnoticed so I can watch."

"T-Toad told me to do it," he sputters, almost too fast.

You suddenly remember how Soap once remarked Archer tends to come up with excuses blaming Toad. With a smug chuckle, you wag your head at the blatant lie. "That's funny, 'cause if I remember correctly, _you _were the one on top."

Archer bites his bottom lip, trapped as his lie backfired. You smirk and make no further comment concerning the matter, proceeding to untangle the cords and wires.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I know that last scene with Archer is too short and perhaps unnecessary, but I figure it'd be fun to have "you" say Archer was the one on top. ( _eWe )

_You know the drill. Review! :D_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_I'm sorry for the 11 day wait. Urgh, I feel so bad. That, and this chapter ain't much, just to fill up the events of Day 4 before drawing it to a close. Hopefully, just hopefully, next chapter will make up for it, because I think I have some good stuff for next chapter and was pretty excited about writing it down._

_Thanks so much to everybody for reviewing, it overwhelms me beyond words, even if I can't reply to all._

* * *

><p>By the time twilight fell, the rec-room was fully cleaned up. Any evidence of there being a party the night before was wiped out. As some members retreat to clean themselves up or return to their chambers, you make yourself comfortable on the sofa, enjoying the feeling of being in a clean place. It's also rather humorous to know they use flower-scented air fresheners. Being a covert task force's base, you'd expect them to use something more…manly.<p>

Roach is sitting on the armchair next to you. Seeing him makes your thoughts fly back to Ghost, and you wonder whether the poor Bug realizes his superior's genuine feelings or not.

"Private," Roach suddenly pipes up, striking a conversation amid the peaceful silence, "you came here to get some firsthand experience of what we soldiers do. I'm pretty sure you were expecting lots of training, profesionalism, seriousness…"

At this point, a small smirk falls upon his lips. "Bet you didn't expect romance and booze and us scraping shite off the wall."

You laugh softly at his remark. "Honestly, I didn't know _what _to expect, but romance, booze and you guys scraping shite off the wall sound better than the normal military procedure."

"Wanna know what else we do?" Roach's lips break into a grin. "We pull off _pranks._"

"I don't doubt it," you smile, remembering what Soap said a few days ago when he ran into you in the shower. How the base was out of soap because of 'a prank the numptys pulled off'.

"Oh, you must have heard about the soap prank we did on Meat," Roach beams, apparently proud to know you've heard of the event. "Sometimes he doesn't bathe for days, so Toad, Royce, Worm and I just used up all of the soap to make four whole buckets of soapy water. You can guess what happened to the yank, he really deserved being soaked and covered with foam."

A giggle escapes your lips, mind constructing what must have taken place that day. How pissed Meat must have been, and how Soap and Ghost must have been laughing their heads off in the background (so much for being responsible superiors).

"You probably heard about the prank from the captain, didn't you?" Roach raises an eyebrow.

"How did you know that?"

"He told me at the party that he told you," Roach replies, obviously trying to suppress a smirk, and failing. "He was shitfaced when he suddenly confessed he ran into you in the showers. I don't think he realized what he said, the numpty had too much beer."

Blood rushes to your cheeks. The blush must have been evident, for Roach sniggers and continues with a waggle of his eyebrows. "That's not all he told me. He had about three seconds to look before he realized _who_ he was looking at. And guess what? He said you had a nice—"

"Roach!" you shriek, interrupting him before he can even finish, your face probably absorbing into seven shades of red from immense embarrassment. It's even more infuriating when Roach snickers at your mortification.

"Aren't you girls supposed to be flattered that high-ranked soldiers like Captain MacTavish think you have a nice—"

"Shut up," you snap before he can finish, before adding shakily. "And, hell no. It's fucking embarrassing, especially by _how_ he noticed." In the goddamn showers, not by checking you out when you're fully dressed or anything. That's what makes the whole thing humiliating.

When Roach chuckles again, you inhale deeply to restrain yourself from punching him in the face.

A silence falls between you, and you take advantage of the brief moment to calm yourself. Instead of steering your thoughts away from the subject, your mind lingers on it. Not that it was flattering to know Soap admired—fuck it, you ain't finishing that thought. There's something in the way Roach said the sentence that was rather suspicious…

You know that Roach was obviously flirting with a wasted Soap that night. To know that the captain suddenly talked about _you _amid their romantic session must have sparked some sort of distaste in the sergeant. You recall the tone in Roach's voice earlier, how his supposedly flirtatious glance held a small hint of envy, how his smirk of mischief seemed near to reluctant…

Suddenly, it hits you. You smile maliciously as you counter, "Ooh, are you _jealous, _Roach?"

The question catches the sergeant off guard. "What? Me, jealous?" Roach repeats, chuckling as though the idea was incredulous, though the nervousness in his voice gives him away. "That's ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?"

"Oh, please. You're halfway romancing him when he suddenly talks about _me, _how he ran into _me _in the showers, how he thinks _I _have a nice—whatever…still, don't tell me you didn't feel a _little _envious." You're enjoying Roach's flustered state too much to get embarrassed. On the contrary, a grin breaks out on your face.

Roach seems at a loss of what to say, as though he knows there's nothing he can do to steer the conversation in his favour.

A bit proud of yourself to have made a successful counterattack, you lean back against the sofa and fold your arms. "Anyway, enough about that. Now then, back to the topic of pranks…do you want to try and prank somebody tonight? To show me how real soldiers pull of pranks?"

"Not really…but, is there something on your mind, Private?"

"Well, I was thinking about something really simple," you begin, lips curling into a small smile. "It's not a prank at all, actually. The thing is, I've only seen Ghost without his balaclava thrice; when we went out grocery shopping, during the party, and when I found him, you and Soap in awkward positions—" (At this point, Roach blushes) "—so I was wondering if it was possible to try and take the balaclava off without his consent."

"That's quite risky, but I've never thought of it before," Roach remarks, looking up at the ceiling. The slight traces of pink on his cheeks give him an adorable, innocent look to his already innocent baby-face, but you know very well there's nothing 'innocent' about Roach. It's similar with Toad.

"I'm not willing to risk my ass taking that thing off of the lieutenant," you grin, "so I was wondering if maybe you could do it? You have a reputation for being the childish troublemaker around here, so why don't you prove it?" After a few moments, you add, "Also, I heard Toad and Meat are trying to claim the title."

Roach must have taken your words as a challenge, for he narrows his green eyes as a small smirk curls his lips upwards. "Toad and Meat? _Please, _they couldn't beat me no matter how hard they tried. Anyway, what are we waiting for, Private? Let's go look for Ghost."

The sergeant gets to his feet and ambles out of the rec-room with you following up behind him. However, it surprises you that Roach leads you out of the building through the back door instead of heading to Ghost's room or office. As the both of you walk out into the chilling cold and dark of the night, you look at Roach inquiringly.

"Why are we out here?"

"Ghost sometimes takes a smoke at this time of night," Roach informs, "He said it's one of the only times he can be alone in this place." He looks around and heads off in the left direction, his footsteps reducing from loud crunches to noiseless steps. Reaching the corner, both you and he peek out to the side of the building.

True enough, Ghost is there, slightly hunched forward with his elbows against a wooden fence that reached up to his stomach. A single white light sticking out the side of the building provides illumination. It's peculiar how he still had that goddamn mask on even when he's smoking. The balaclava is pulled up and resting just on the bridge of his perfectly-sculptured nose, a cigarette clipped between his lips. The sunglasses are missing, and his sky blue eyes stare up at the starless night.

Another thing that weirds you out is that Ghost, instead of wearing the usual, long-sleeved shirt, is in a black _tank top. _That's the sexiest you've ever seen of the lieutenant (excluding seeing him in only boxers, you were either too dizzy or your mind was too occupied with other thoughts to comprehend the view at the time).

Pale, slim yet strong arms bare, shoulder blades outlined in the back of the shirt, the shoulders themselves open and looking smooth…and that's just his back. With a shirt like that, it must slink around his abs as well, and with that balaclava on… you silently hope you won't drool if Ghost turns around.

"Why is he hunched like that?" you whisper, trying to pull your gaze away from Ghost's ass. With him bending forward and resting against that fence, he's just…what's the slang these days? Booty tooching? Yeah.

And damn, do those pants make his ass look nice.

You suddenly flush at your thoughts, reminding yourself that Roach is right next to you and might have caught you staring, had it not been for the fact the sergeant, too, was ogling the superior with a look in his eyes you probably don't want to know about.

"Hey hey, stop staring," you hiss, and Roach's gaze snaps back at you, a blush tinting his cheeks at the same time. "Go on, he looks pretty lost in thought, so…now may be a good time."

Roach grins. "Watch me. I can be sneaky if I want to."

A smile breaks out on your face as he exits the shelter of the corner and approaches the lieutenant. The way he draws near unintentionally reminds you that Roach is a part of TF141 for a reason. His extreme caution, his silent footsteps, his keen observation on Ghost, his suddenly soft breathing. It's rare for Ghost, but he actually let his guard down, which surprises you.

Eventually, the sergeant is exactly behind the superior. Ghost's eyes are closed, as though absorbed into some sort of dream. In fact, he's too aborbed to realize the presence behind him.

Suddenly, Roach's grabs at the balaclava, and how he so easily pulls it off Ghost's head surprises you, too. Expecting the older man's head to jerk back from sudden force, you can feel your jaw drop as the mask slides over his eyes and through his choppy black hair without even disturbing his hunched-forward position…Roach pulled it off as smooth as running your fingers through silky long hair.

Ghost's eyes fly open and he opens his mouth in slight shock, cigaratte falling from his lips in the process. It drops to the ground as he turns around to meet with Roach's cheeky grin.

"You shouldn't let your guard down, Simon," he chides, a hint of mischief in his childishly-sweet voice. For some reason, your heart flutters at how affectionately Roach addresses Ghost by his first name. Hell, the sergeant probably didn't even realize that he called Ghost that.

Instead of getting annoyed, a dreamy smirk plays across Ghost's face. Quickly, his hand swoops in to grab Roach's other wrist, the one which wasn't holding the mask. He pulls the younger man closer and wraps an arm around his waist, nuzzling his face into Roach's neck at the same time.

"Always the sneaky cockroach, ain't ya, Bug?" Ghost murmurs, planting soft kisses along his jaw, pulling him closer when Roach squirms and tries to wiggle out of the embrace.

A half-smile twitches the edge of your lips as you bite your bottom lip to prevent a cry, face pleasantly flushing at what was unfolding. This is definitely an unexpected scenario.

Roach seems reluctant to move away from Ghost, wanting to kiss him back but doesn't because he knows you're watching, and then again, Roach couldn't get away even if he tried. Ghost's grip is strong.

"Simon…" Roach sighs softly, the rest of his words drowned out when Ghost kisses him, full and hard, on the lips.

You hear a soft moan, and unsure whether it came from Roach or Ghost, you continue to watch no matter how much your inner self screams for you to make a run for it.

"Isn't this why you interrupted my alone moment and pulled my balaclava off?" Ghost smirks, stroking Roach's clean-shaven face, amused by how the sergeant is abnormally embarrassed by the affectionate treatment that he should have been used to by now. "To get me to pay you some attention, aye?"

Roach doesn't answer, instead avoids eye contact. You giggle softly, obviously he isn't answering because he doesn't want Ghost to let go of him. The sergeant looks off in your direction, almost pleadingly. He can't see you, and you know that, but you accede to his request anyway and smile softly.

Much to your fangirl-side's reluctance, you leave and give them some privacy as Roach returns a few kisses of his own.

* * *

><p>In the ten minutes you were gone, chaos ensued near the members' chambers. After grabbing a cup of ice cream, you head towards your room, passing by the soldiers' rooms pon the way. For some reason, everybody's making a big fuss of the room Chemo and Rocket share. Others are laughing and sniggering, whereas others look disgusted or amused. At that moment, an awful smell forces its way into your nostrils, pulling your face into a sour, revolted expression.<p>

"Urgh, what the fuck is that smell?" you ask, the smell's so bad that the f-word was necessary.

It did come from Chemo's and Rocket's room. Unwilling to peek in, you squeeze your way through the numerous people watching and stumble past the room, eventually finding Soap on the other side. Seeing him did send a jolt of self-consciousness in you, especially with what Roach had divulged, but you manage to keep the embarrassment in check.

"What's happening?" you ask the captain. He's lying against the wall with his arms folded, somehow able to watch over the shoulders.

"I don't know why they're making a big fuss about it, but somehow a cat got into building," Soap starts with a lopsided smile. "It took a shit right on Chemo's bed. It's also weird because they didn't realize it was there until Chemo laid down on his mattress."

You wince, smiling sympathetically. "Damn, poor guy."

"I think he's been in the showers for twenty minutes," Soap scratches his chin, chuckling. "Which just leaves Rocket with the duty of getting the shit off their beds. Apparently, my men are more accustomed to dogs than they are to cats…and it's just amusing to see Rocket struggle so much." After a few moments, he adds, "Look, even _Archer_'s enjoying himself."

"…they don't know how to clean cat shit?"

"Aye. That's a simpler way to put it."

Both you and Soap share some laughter, and it wouldn't have died down if it weren't for the shriek which came from the room.

"Oh _God help me. _Even with five sheets of newspaper I can feel the shit underneath my hands. IT'S ALL MUSHY AND SMELLS LIKE CHEMO'S SOCKS, FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

The crowd makes way as Rocket runs out with a ball of crumpled newspaper in his hands, a look of digust and agony on his face as he rushes for the nearest dustbin. In fact, he looks like he's about to throw up.

"This is probably one of the reasons why I prefer dogs," Toad comments with a chuckle, slamming Rocket's door shut to block off the smell. When the crowd agrees with him, they look at you and Soap. "What about you two?"

You don't answer, whereas the captain smiles sheepishly. "Sorry mates, I—uh, dislike 'em. You could say I'm a cat person."

"What?" Royce throws his head back, laughing. "Guess our _macho _captain ain't so manly after all!"

Soap snorts, "If any of you muppets went through what I went through five years ago, trust me, you wouldn't be a fan of dogs either."

"Tell me about it…" you mutter, rolling your eyes, recalling the first time you played Call of Duty 4. When Soap looks at you suspiciously, you stammer, "I got pounced on by a dog once…?"

The pathetic excuse strangely convinces everybody present at the time. Then, Soap looks up at the ceiling and says, "Hmm, I remember my old captain wasn't too fond of dogs, either."

"Old captain?" Worm looks up, before adding in hopefully with a grin. "Story time, eh, Cap?"

"Captain Price was his name. He and I shared a lot in common, mainly our mutual dislike for a lot of things. Dogs for instance, he told me about his encounter with one back when he was a leftenant in Pripyat."

Since you're only a few feet away, you notice the frown tugging on his lips. As though he's uncomfortable talking about the older captain.

"Sounds like your typical grumpy superior," Meat remarks, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Well, the ones those other units have, of course. As for our task force, our superiors are unique. Cap's laidback, Ghost is insane and Archer's just passive-aggressive."

Archer looks at him incredulously. "I am _not—"_

"Where's Captain Price now?" Scarecrow asks.

You watch Soap carefully. Hesitation glimmers in his baby blue eyes that avert eye contact, and his fingers clumsily scratch at his well-trimmed beard, and his weight shifts from one foot to another. He's obviously considering what he should say.

"He's…uh, KIA."

An awkward silence falls upon everyone there, and you struggle to keep yourself from shouting that Price is alive and dressed like a hobo and locked up in a gulag for a while.

Noticing that you're reaching your limit of holding it in (that, and your ice cream is melting), you break the sad quietness with a fake cough. Apologetically, looking from Soap to the members, you say, "I need to go back to my room, guys. I'm sorry. Good night."

You skitter down the path and turn into the hallway housing your room, swiftly entering it and locking the door with a soft _click. _The earlier conversation reminds you of your curiosity from a few days ago of what the TF141 is up to. Whether anything major has happened, or any of the sort. You're still afraid you may be suspected of being a spy, but the inquisitiveness is starting to get too much for you to handle.

After some careful consideration, you decide to do some snooping tomorrow morning, when the members are out training…

And then a yawn brings a bout of sleepiness over your frame. With a small smile, you shuffle towards the bed to go to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Honestly, I'm not sure if I messed up some facts here; I literally suck with MW references. Oh...and I completed CoD Ghosts recently. Would any of you like to read a one-shot of Keegan/Logan...if only I can think of a fluffy plot._

_Leave a review! I know this chapter sucked but I think next one will be better!_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_I know, this is a very quick update, a little treat for everyone ;w; Thanks for all the reviews, my insecurity of last chapter washed away thanks to all of you. Nice to know that silly cat sh*t at the end was humorous to you all. Anyway, I wrote this up kinda quick since I was excited for this part of the story and...uh, the words just flowed from my fingers...?_

_Anyway, this also hovers close to the M-rating...you have been warned! xD Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>For some reason, last night's sleep felt short and as though it had only lasted a couple hours, but it didn't mean you weren't refreshed the following morning. It was a quarter to seven when you opened your eyes, and after walking through an empty base and bathing in the empty shower room, you dress into casual clothing by the time the clock strikes half past eight.<p>

The cup of hardly-eaten ice cream sits next to your phone on the end table. The sweet, sticky smell fills your nostrils as you settle on the bed, mattress dipping down as you did so. You were so sleepy last night you must have forgotten to devour the dessert.

After a few seconds of looking around and thinking of nothing, a thought strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Of course, today is the day you decided the previous night to do some snooping on some of the covert missions of the task force. And, with everybody out training, it's the perfect time to do so.

You remain on the bed for a few minutes to map out a few destinations. You know that the superiors here are Soap, Ghost, and Archer. The sniper's chamber is closest to yours—you'll start your snooping there. Then, at a different hallway only two minutes away, is the office which Soap and Ghost share, and the files you seek are most probably there.

A bit further down are Ghost's and Soap's bedrooms (being the top two superiors, they have their own private, individual chambers, set at a different hallway so it's away from the rowdiness of other members; priviledges for the high ranks, maybe?). If the files in question aren't in the office, you'll check Ghost's room, and then Soap's.

With a well thought-out plan in mind, you exit your room and begin walking towards the members' bunkers to head for Archer's room. It's so quiet, you can hear yourself breathe, but it's the exact same silence that fills you with confidence that you won't get caught sneaking around. Before long, you reach the hallway with multiple doors, the hallway which was overcrowded the night before.

Luckily, you know where Archer sleeps, only because you saw his head poking out from one of the doors during the commotion last night. You approach the wooden door identical to the others and swing it inwards, peeking in, only to find that it empty. Encouraged, you step in and close the door behind you without a sound.

It's kind of unfair how this door doesn't creak, but yours does. Looking carefully at the hinges, you find that they've been oiled recently. A small smirk falls upon your lips; you should have expected it. It must drive Archer crazy if his door constantly groans whenever he enters or exits his room.

Turning away from the door, you take in the condition of the chamber. Unlike Soap and Ghost, Archer shares his room with Toad, and it's no surprise there, though you wonder how Archer can handle Toad's constant foolishness.

To the left is the double-decker bed, opposite it is what appears to be two cabinets pushed together with multiple drawers, probably for their clothes. There are magazines and books neatly stacked on the cabinets, and some toiletries as well, separated into two groups. You giggle as you examine the brand…you always noted how Toad has a unique scent, in a nice way, and to discover his body spray brand is Playboy makes you want to laugh for some reason.

There are some clothes strewn about the floor, naturally. You can make out a couple of shirts and a belt, looking as though they've been thrown across the room without any care whatsover from their owner.

Returning your gaze to the bed, you evaluate which one belongs to whom. The upper one is neat, with covers folded and pillow fluffed, and the whole bed looking undisturbed to begin with. It must be Archer's. Now, as for the bottom one…

Ouch, how does Toad's bed end up like this? Half of the rumpled up, unevenly-coloured covers are on the floor, one pillow is at the foot of the bed whereas the other one is flipped across the room, near the windows, and the bed sheets are dark at some spots, also rumpled up as though somebody gripped on them.

Putting your hands on your hips, you wag your head with a small smile and chuckle, before scrutinizing the area to find a place where any hint of their missions might be hidden. There is no desk, so you move on to their drawers. You check underneath the clothing in one of the cabinets, the one you suspect belongs to Archer, but, unfortunately, find nothing.

A quick search of the other one reveals two porn magazines…cheeky Toad.

Sighing, slightly disappointed, you look at the bed. Oh well, you should check underneath those messy covers, though you doubt you'd find anything.

Shuffling to the bed and bending down, your hands support your weight as you lean into the bed and start groping around for anything. A journal, a picture, a file; long shot, yes, but probable. As you feel around, some things immediately come to mind—how warm the bed feels, and how it's quite damp at some of the darker spots.

Despite having confirmed there's nothing on the bed that has what you're looking for, there _is _something peculiar about Toad's bed's condition. You remain bended forward, hands on the rumpled bed sheets, eyes taking in all the details. Something…just, something. You can't quite put your finger on it, not yet.

The warmth should be natural, since Toad's bed is the lower bunker bed and his body heat from sleeping on it last night is more…preserved. But, the warmth spreads a bit…either Toad has abnormally broad shoulders that stretch up almost all of the mattress, or somebody else occupied his bed with him.

And then there's these damp spots. Biting your bottom lip, you wonder why they feel so…sticky. What the hell are they? The rumples in the bed sheets are about the size of your fist. The probable cause is that somebody gripped on it in a tight grasp.

Then, the more you mull over this, the more your nose picks up…a peculiar smell. It's not pleasant, but not so bad, but it just smells weird. Very weird, and very suggestive. You rack your brain, trying to identify this scent…then it hits you.

It smells like sex.

"Holy shit!" you cry out, immediately jolting upright, only to bump your head against the wooden rim of the upper bed. With a hiss of pain, you stumble back, returning to the cabinets, all the while mumbling obscenities as your thoughts run about in your head.

A blush prickles at your cheeks, shading it a deep red, as you stare at the bed with a flustered, disturbed and innocent look. No wonder Archer's bed looks undisturbed—because it was never slept on last night to begin with…he and Toad shared the younger man's bed last night, and they did something else, too. The cause of those damp spots.

Your face feels so heated up, it's like smoke is coming out of your ears. It's disgusting that you found out about their activity _this _way, touching those damp spots which is _most probably _their—urgh, why didn't they fucking clean it up? It's like murdering someone and leaving the scene without wiping out evidence.

Biting the insides of your cheeks, you lean against the cabinets for a while longer, wondering whether you can ever look at Archer and Toad the same way ever again. Man…yeah, their cute, flirty, kissy moments should lead up to intimate sessions at some point but…for _you _to find out, and to know it all happened just last night?

Your eyes flick to the shirts and belt on the floor. With your new knowledge, those items just add to the long list of evidence.

Just as your heart rate calms down, you wonder who was the one on top. Archer's an obvious answer, but, then again, Toad does seem like a dominating—

'_What the fuck is wrong with me?' _your hands fly to your face, the heat of a flush to the cheeks slightly felt against your palms.

And _then _you notice an empty bottle of lube on the floor. _'Evidence! There's fucking evidence everywhere!'_

You may not have found what you're looking for, but you definitely found out about something you _didn't _want to know about. With a small curse, you avert your eyes from the crime scene and leave the room before any more embarrassing thoughts and inappropriate pictures can sneak into your mind.

Closing the door behind you, you struggle to maintain a poker face and push out all memories of what you saw out of your head as you make your way to your next destination. The office of Soap and Ghost, where the files should be.

Before long, you reach the said room and stand in front of it for a few moments to pick up any sounds. Though all the members are assuredly outside, warming up or brushing on their skills, there's no guarantee that Soap wouldn't be slacking off again, perhaps in his office this time. After a minute of complete silence, you turn the knob noiselessly and peek in.

After entering, you turn around. There are two desks, one on the right and the other one facing the door, and a large shelf to the left of what looks like general fiction and non-fiction novels stacked on the tiers instead of sorted-out files.

The desk to the right is clear, other than a few empty sheets of papers stacked upon one another and held down by a big stapler, and a closed laptop. The other one that faces the exit should be Soap's—it has two stacks of papers, at least, and the stationery is scattered about. The computer screen is dark but a sole light flashes, indicating it's only on sleep mode. There's an empty coffee cup at the end of the desk, too.

Though a bit brightened by seeing the stacks, you become disappointed to find out they're all just reports waiting to be filled, all details and boxes have yet to be written out or ticked, which just leaves out all possibilities of getting an answer. The computer, when stirred, is, of course, locked and inaccessible without a password. The drawers must have the covert files, but, much to your dismay, they're all locked, as well.

Same thing goes for Ghost's desk, both his drawers and his laptop. With a curse, you find out the keys to their drawers are also missing. The office is useless! You'll have to find the keys to get some more access. And there are only two places those keys could be: either in their pockets, or in their bedrooms.

Oh, please be in their bedrooms.

As you swing the door inwards to get out, you suddenly hear a soft click go off somewhere down the hallway, as though another person just closed a door. You freeze at the sound, and your heart beats rapidly as you hesitantly look down the hallway. A sigh of relief that you didn't know you held in passes your lips when there's nobody there. Maybe just a hallucination.

Ghost's room is just as you expect it. Neat, clean and smells like him. A search through his tall, wide wardrobe (the one place he can actually keep anything in such an organized room) only reveals that Ghost has a strict taste in clothing and colour. A frown forms on your face as your search, once again, leads to no avail.

No key, no nothing.

A grunt escapes your mouth, your curiosity flaring up with irritation and impatience, as you approach Soap's bedroom. If this place has nothing, then all that's left is the meeting room, which should have some sort of board with Makarov's picture in the middle of it. Only problem? Soap didn't tell you where the meeting room is.

The rage of riled thoughts get briefly interrupted when you hear some kind of movement from inside the captain's chambers. However, edgy and annoyed, you push the door open, albeit a little slowly as it was (for some reason) heavier and creaked _so much louder _than your door. It took ten seconds for you to finally push it open and close it again.

Somewhere amid the creaking, you hear some frantic movement, maybe a flash of somebody in the room, and a fast _tap_, but when you turn around, there's nobody inside. Gulping, a sense of fear pokes the back of your mind, but you quickly dismiss the idea of something haunting the temporarily empty base.

It looks like a normal bedroom, of course, but doesn't have a desk like you'd expect. A single bed pushed to the side, a cabinet that probably houses toiletries and boxers, and a tall, wide wardrobe next to it that a lot of women would want, next to a walk-in closet, of course.

Again, you approach the wardrobe (since it's the closest thing to you, and the first place anyone would use to hide anything), admiring the dark wood as you draw near. You stand in front one of the closet's "door's", staring at it for a few seconds, before curling your fingers around the handle to slide it open.

You must have only pulled only one inch, when loud footsteps echo from outside, and the bedroom door bursts open.

Paralyzed with shock, you manage to pick out that Roach and Soap just entered the room, lips locked in a greedy, sloppy make-out session, somehow managing to waltz inside in an awkward fashion without pulling away from each other. Without looking, Soap, who was pushing Roach inside in their weird walking-kissing thing, pinned the sergeant against the door as it closed, leaning deeper into the younger man, deepening their kiss.

You really, in all honesty, couldn't move, and would have been caught by the two soldiers, if it weren't for the closet door magically opening by itself, and a strong hand appears from the dark and grips your arm before pulling you inside.

As the darkness of the closet and warmth of clothes surround you, the door closes, blocking you off safely from Soap and Roach. However, as your mind picks up what little information you can comprehend amid the confusing situation, your pulse begins to race.

_Holy shit. _Who the hell is inside the closet with you? How long was this person in here? What would have happened had you opened the door and saw him inside? Your panic increases when a gloved hand cups over your mouth, and another arm snakes across your stomach to grip on your hip, forcing your back to lean against this unknown stranger as he prevents you from screaming or moving. Whoever he is, he's tall, strong and well-built.

After some squirming leads nowhere, you hyperventilate.

"Sssh, Private, relax. It's just me."

…Ghost?

"I'm going to let go of you now, but be quiet, or you'll give away our position."

Now with all fear and anxiety gone, you feel a bit embarrassed by how Ghost's lips sound so close to your ear. His voice is so high quaility and British-lilted, it sends your heart sky-rocketing.

True enough, the lieutenant removes his hand from your mouth and releases his grip around your abdomen, and you whirl around so you can face him. In the cramped up psace of the closet, where clothes hung from the iron bar basically take up all the space and absorb all the sound, Ghost is so unbearably close.

A few inches are what make the space between you two, and if you stumbled a bit to the front you'd fall straight into Ghost. He's staring at you, his glacier blue eyes holding its normal glint of calm and control, the rest of his face hidden by the skull balaclava. Steadying your breathing and heart rate, you focus on your thoughts, to sort everything out.

A soft whimper comes from outside, followed by a low, deep growl, and you hate how there's no stopping the embarrassment from showing on your face. The situation is so, so delicate. Here you are, in Soap's closet, so close to Ghost you can hear him breathe, whereas the captain and Roach are making out just outside, probably about to get rid of their clothes for a morning 'session'…

And you're right here with the lieutenant, listening in on everything.

Well, shit.

"Jo-ohn…" Roach whines, but the rest of his complaints stop short when a cry of pain mixed with pleasure finds its way out of his mouth.

The closet doors have small slits in them to serve as decoration, but right now, it served as little peeking holes. The light seeping in through those holes shone against Ghost's eyes as he looks out, which makes you wonder why he's doing it. You bite your bottom lip as his eyes narrow, the stolidness in his eyes merging into jealousy.

"Hmph," Ghost snorts, looking away. You can only guess what he's seen, especially since those slowly-growing-louder-with-each-second moans are already giving you a graphic description, and you haven't even taken a peek yet.

When his eyes meet yours, he asks, in a soft voice. "What were you doing in MacTavish's room?"

"I—uh, I…" you stammer, mind scrambling for an answer. But, you stop and snap, "Wait a minute, what were _you_ doing in MacTavish's _closet_?"

Ghost sighs inaudibly and massages his temples. "Alright, I admit, we both have explaning to do."

"No shit," you murmur underneath your breath, slightly agitated as you can hear the rustle of clothes, flaps of fabric and denim, the familiar buzz of a zipper, all mingled with soft moans and curses. "Uh, you first."

"No use hiding or beating around the bloody bush," Ghost mutters. He cuts off eye contact as he continues with a hint of reluctance. "I was looking for MacTavish."

"Why?" you arch a brow.

"Multiple reasons," is the simple and terse answer. Though you can tell he speaks of the truth, there's a kind of hidden emotion with how he said his words that sets off a spark of curiosity. "One of 'em is that I suspected Bug would be in here since he isn't training. I was surprised when it was you at the door, so I hid here instinctively."

However, you don't want to bother him much about it. You remain silent for a while, watching him, unsure of what to feel right now. Should you be sympathetic for Ghost to have to listen? Or just plain embarrassed Ghost is there in the first place?

"What about you?" Ghost suddenly inquires.

"I was looking for the captain," you reply. Hopefully he'll buy it.

"I'm not an idiot, Private." Okay, so he didn't buy it.

"Fine. I was looking for files concerning your missions," you confess, staring at him straight in the eyes. You can't make out his reaction, damn balaclava. "I know they're supposed to be top-secret of something, but curiosity got the better of me. I went by the office, and came by here to look for the key to the captain's desk drawers."

"Oh."

Ghost doesn't seem to mind much, and he squints a bit as another discomforting groan reaches your ears. He's clearer as uncomfortable as you. It must be harder for him than it is for you, though.

"Alright, how are we going to get out of here?" you finally demand, releasing a tired sigh.

Ghost doesn't say anything for the next few minutes, eyes narrowed in concentration as he brainstorms for a perfect plan to slip out unnoticed. Finally, he looks at you and says blankly:

"I have no idea."

You face falls. Then, Ghost muses, "The only thing I can think of is that I walk out and distract them while you make your escape…"

"Oh no, no, no, no," you wag a finger, quickly dismissing the idea, restraining yourself from facepalming. "That's a _horrible _idea, I just know that if you walk out it'll lead to a threesome or something..."

Ghost's eyes crinkle at the sides, and you suspect a blush and perverted smile spread out on his face underneath that balaclava due to your comment.

"So…since you don't have a plan, what're we going to do?" you bite the insides of your cheeks, looking at the lieutenant hopefully. "Just sit hear and listen to them…do that?"

Ghost peeks out again. "I'm afraid so, and it might take a while. So far they've only gotten their shirts off, and MacTavish's taking his time with Bug's pants."

"_Thank you _for the update," you spit out sarcastically, face heating up again.

Ghost chuckles and looks back at you. "I do think this one won't be long. I'm missing, the captain's missing—at least _one _of the members will start looking for us. It shouldn't be long until someone raps on that door."

"Well, they better hurry," you mumble, frowning.

Thanks to the sounds, you can imagine what's going on. Just as you think of biting your hand to prevent little squeals from listening to their 'session', something magical happens.

The knocks on the door are like music to your ears.

"Captain?" It's Archer.

You can hear both Roach and Soap panic, fumble and trip. Ghost watches, his eyes crinkled at the sides as a sign of smug satisfaction. The grin of his balaclava's skull pattern actually matches his eyes and mood at the moment.

"Y-Yeah?" Soap replies, hastily putting on his shirt from the sounds of it.

"I can't find Ghost anywhere, and the others are looking for you."

"Alright, I'll be right out!" Soap promises, before cursing underneath his breath. "Simon Riley, you bloody numpty…"

Ghost snickers, clearly enjoying himself. A few moments later, you can hear the Scotsman say something to Roach, and before the long he exits the room, leaving the sergeant in there alone. Roach doesn't move, as you can't make out any hint of movement going on. You and Ghost remain silent for a few minutes.

Suddenly, Ghost opens the closet door.

Roach is sitting on the bed, hair rustled, face flushed and lips swollen, shirtless and his jeans unzipped but still hung loosely on his hips. He jumps, startled by the closet door sliding open by itself, and blushes deeper when Ghost reveals you and himself to the sergeant. His jaw drops, his eyes go wide—he's clearly at a loss of what to say.

"Si—Simon?" he stammers, gulping.

"You cheeky little cockroach," Ghost says softly, almost in a reprimanding tone, as he steps out of the closet. You follow him out and look at the entrance of the room, noting how the voices of both Archer and Soap are gone.

"Private?" Roach stutters, pure confusion on his adorably flustered face. "Oh man, what are you—did you hear all that?"

"Sure did," Ghost smirks, pulling off his balaclava and approaching the younger man, who stands up and stares at both of you cluelessly as the lieutenant draws near him.

You stare at Ghost's back oddly, wondering with a bit of fear why he's approaching Roach. Is he going to lash out on the sergeant or what?

Let's just say you're utterly surprised when Ghost suddenly pulls Roach close and kisses him on the lips, a bit similar to what he did the previous night.

Roach pulls away immediately, face horror-stricken. "Simon! Private's right over there!"

Both pairs of eyes falls on you, in which you respond by awkwardly standing there and looking away. Ghost grunts, "She already knows, and she doesn't care."

Your jaw drops in disbelief at how laidback Ghost is of your presence, and so is Roach, who stares at his lover with his mouth agape, in which the lieutenant seizes the opportunity to stick his tongue in the other's mouth.

The sudden aggressiveness in Ghost's kiss causes an involuntary moan from the younger man, who melts into the others arms immediately. His moan also flicks a switch in your body. Your eyelids flutter and you raise your arms, a scandalized look of "I'm so done" on your face as you turn on your heel to leave the room.

"I am _so _out of here!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I'm lazy to check for errors...uh, yeah, so excuse the typos you might have seen in there. I like this chapter, it's been on my mind since I started the story xD How do you like it? I'm just guessing we would've all walked out if Ghost and Roach were getting smexy in front of us, lol._

_Leave a review!_


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